


Thoughts and Words

by GirlKnownSomewhere



Category: Pop Music RPF, Rock Music RPF, The Byrds (Band)
Genre: 1960s, Affairs, Angst, Arguing, Band Fic, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cute, Drinking, Drugs, F/M, Flirting, Foreplay, Kissing, Making Out, Romance, Smoking, Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:20:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 50,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29591322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GirlKnownSomewhere/pseuds/GirlKnownSomewhere
Summary: A fanfictionalized retelling of Chris Hillman & Anya Butler's relationship during the Byrds' creative prime.
Relationships: Chris Hillman/Anya Butler
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	1. We'll Meet Again

**Author's Note:**

> Oh wow, another super long, multi-chapter band fanfic that came out of nowhere! :O If you're familiar with my Monkees fics, you'll know all of my female leads are obscure women from classic rock history I basically use as a vessel for an OFC. Since there isn't much info out there on Anya as a person (and Chris has done a good job sanitizing his love life since becoming a family man), I made up a lot of her personality and motives beyond the basics. And if anyone's ever dug deep into researching Anya's family like I did before writing this story and is wondering why I ignored a certain controversy with father, ummm. Yeah, I have no idea what I would have done with that, lol. So I made up her family dynamic as well. Regarding the Byrds' band history, I did my some minor retconning to fit Anya's character development and Chris/Anya's relationship growth, but nothing OTT/ridiculous, like usual. And to make things easy on myself continuity wise, Roger is still referred to as 'Jim' outside of dialogue in the second half of the fic, heh. I'm also not British, so if anything might seem a little off to any UK readers, that's why, lol. Anyways, hope everyone who comes across this fic enjoys it as much as I did writing it. TY 🎶💫
> 
> P.S. Once again a big thank you to the lovely @petiteclover for making all my fic banners 💞
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to the Byrds' image or brand or the other celebrities featured's likenesses. (I own like 70% of Anya, lol)

Ch. 1: We’ll Meet Again

Los Angeles, June 1966

Anya Butler really could not think of a better way to spend her mid-20s. She was living in Hollywood with her best friend, working in Atlantic Records’ offices, plus meeting and hanging out with nearly every popular rock band on the charts. She might as well be one of the luckiest girls in the world. Going from her hometown of London, England, to New York City to Los Angeles in less than a year’s time and with hardly any real struggle. Anya’s previous gig was working as secretary for Kit Lambert, the Who’s manager and the head of Track Records, which quickly made her very familiar with rock & roll and the mod scene. And through swingin’ London she met said best friend, Gail Sloatman, who was looking for an excuse to quit modeling and move to New York. Anya found the idea of moving to the states very intriguing as she wasn’t nearly as enamored with London as most of her peers, and both coasts of the US had their own hot spots. Finding enough financial support to move abroad wasn’t a struggle for the young Brit either. Not only because of her hip secretary job, but because her family’s status made it possible for her to live ‘comfortably’ her whole life. Anya was aware of her privilege as a lower level heiress to one of the most successful chocolate companies in the world: Cadbury. And because of this, she really wanted nothing to do with it, much to her father’s chagrin. 

Running straight to the music industry right as the British Invasion was blowing up was definitely not what her parents had in mind as she came into womanhood. Not just because most older generations, especially those in higher class, frowned upon the concept of the arts as a living. But since her parents were aware how ‘loose’ the culture of rock music was and naturally had a feeling their wild child was taking plenty advantage of it. Which of course Anya was. But she wasn’t about to confirm that to them personally, and she didn’t care how unbecoming it was to be associated with crazy rockstars. She had spent her childhood completely bored between all the private schools, cotillion classes and fancy events she was obliged to attend, and now she was going to spend her young adult years completely making up for it. Legality gave her a sense of liberation and courage to be adventurous and carefree, even if it made her the typical ‘poor little rich girl’ cliché. She had no intention of rushing into marriage right out of school like most of the women in her family. Living on her own made it easy to ignore their disapproval of her career choice, and moving out of the country made it even easier to have excuses to not visit. 

New York soon turned into crossing over to Los Angeles, California, which soon made Anya and Gail suddenly more interested in the pop groups of the west coast rather than the rowdy rock bands they had become accustomed to in the UK. Anya got a pretty fast introduction to the new region since Gail was actually American and only spent so many years abroad because her family moved to London when she was a teenager. And now a year after meeting, they were both in California. Anya successfully convinced Kit she could promote the Who’s singles for more US exposure and make the band her top priority when they were on tour or traveling for press. This wasn’t too hard seeing as how Atlantic was an American distributor for Kit’s label, which got Anya a great referral from Kit when she applied for the open position. It was a bit of a struggle for the band manager to accept she was moving as the two complimented each other’s work ethics very well. Kit knew it was going to be difficult finding another secretary as good as Anya, but he relented eventually. As for Gail, well, it wasn’t hard at all to be offered a hostess job at the Whisky a Go-Go in Hollywood with her good looks and A-list photographers like Terence Donovan and David Bailey on her resume.

At the moment, the two friends were leaving Capitol Records’ building after a rather enjoyable and eventful visit to a Beach Boys vocal session. Anya, with her shoulder-length chocolate brown hair and elegant facial features, was in a white sundress with a floral scarf, black flats and matching sunglasses; and Gail in a denim skirt with a red blouse and floppy hat above her dark hair which hung a couple inches past her shoulders and included bangs. 

“Dennis and I are totally going out this weekend,” Gail giddily stated referencing the coolest Beach Boy, Dennis Wilson.

Anya smiled with a slight snort at her friend’s prediction. “I wouldn’t get your hopes up just yet. Don’t forget neither of you are exactly single,” she reminded. Gail—while open to the newly founded counter-culture of independence and casual dating—had also been regularly seeing local, but popular musician Bobby Jameson. Anya wasn’t actually sure if Dennis was in a relationship, but she did know he definitely lived up to his reputation as the biggest ladies’ man in the pop group; and probably wasn’t as available as Gail would like.

“Oh, well, we’re just taking it easy still…” She reluctantly lingered as she suddenly remembered her boyfriend. “It was cute Brian dedicated the third take of his verse to you,” Gail told Anya to switch subjects. 

The fellow brunette smiled at the memory of earlier in the day. Since moving to America, the band Anya had become most familiar and friendly with were the Beach Boys; and she was particularly close with Brian, the unofficial leader. He was so sweet, cute, talented and empathetic. Many of her best conversations and social moments had been with Brian, and discovering how gifted he was in person was a thrill on its own. His band of brothers weren’t signed with Atlantic, but Anya swiftly found herself friendly with many acts from various labels just because of her and Gail’s penchant for hanging around concerts and clubs on weekends. And just as swiftly, she and Brian hit it off instantly when they met backstage a Mamas & Papas show at the Palladium. Since then Anya (and Gail by association) were offered to stop by any concert or studio session they wanted, which they naturally took up.

The one thing holding everything back from being perfect was Brian's marriage. This would have been totally fine, as Anya could always use an extra friend besides Gail. Brian was also the type of guy who was too nice to legitimately flirt or tease, which she appreciated considering all the blatantly promiscuous musicians she was used to. But Anya couldn’t deny there was a gradually growing attraction, even if she was successfully curbing anything physical possibly occurring. The young woman had no problem participating in casual sex as much as casual dates, with a few one-night stands to even her credit, but she drew the line at cheating and affairs. Life was short and she was too young to get involved with something that complicated. 

“So are you going to stick around with Brian after the concert tomorrow?” Gail interrupted Anya’s thoughts with.

“No, probably not,” she answered honestly though with some mental reluctance. “I’m actually thinking of cutting back on our hang-outs,” she revealed as the two strolled down the LA street. 

“Really?” Gail asked in surprise. “But you two get along so well.”

Anya shook her head. “It’s not going anywhere either of us want. We’re great as friends and the feelings are more than that. But I can’t get in the middle of someone’s marriage,” she concluded.

The former model nodded understandingly. “You’re stronger than I am,” she said sheepishly.

The secretary smiled back in appreciation as they turned on the street. The friends realized they would need to cross the opposite street to reach Gail’s car, but it would be quicker to jay-walk then keep walking to the cross light. When they stopped at the edge of the sidewalk, Anya briefly saw that it was a rare moment where there weren’t any cars on the road. “You want to take a chance and just hop over?”

Gail turned her head to look around the road quickly herself before giving a nod. “Yeah, sure.”

But fate was not on the young ladies’ sides as right after they skipped over to the other sidewalk, a policeman was suddenly in front of them. Anya gasped in shock.

“What the—”

“Miss, are you aware jay-walking is against the law—”

“Oh God, are you serious?” Gail interrupted switching from surprise to annoyance.

“And could be fined for—”

“People are walking around with dangerous weapons in their pockets, and you’re going to give us…”

As Gail continued to argue with the officer, Anya kept quiet as she was technically and legally a foreigner who didn’t want to tempt fate as a visitor, unlike her friend. 

“Don’t you have some school kid to bust for holding a joint?” She accused once more without fear with even Anya wondering if Gail’s courage was going to work against them.

“Miss, you’re going to have to—”

“Hey, sorry we’re late.”

In only an instance, Anya felt an arm around her shoulder and another male, though younger, voice enter the scene. 

“Yeah, sir, it’s our fault,” another voice insisted when she noticed the man with the second voice had his own arm around Gail. Anya subtly studied the strange men who abruptly took over the confrontation from the cop. The young man holding her was rather slim and around half a foot taller than her in black pants, boots and a brown pullover sweater. The other man wore similar, except his top was a dark aqua colored turtleneck. Both had the current trend of bowl cut style hairdos, with the taller man’s hair more golden contrasting the other’s brown shade. “They’re from out of town,” the other man claimed as an excuse for the jay-walking.

Anya got a strange sense of familiarity from the two men, like she should know who they are. Which she probably should since they looked like most music groups on stage these days. As the guys took over randomly covering for their bad behavior, Gail grabbed Anya’s attention with barely any discreetness. 

“Anya, they’re two of the Byrds!” She whispered with excitement. 

The band name suddenly ran a bell in the other woman’s head and made her remember she did know them, but only by association. Of course she had listened to their first two records, ‘Mr. Tambourine Man’ and ‘Turn! Turn! Turn!,’ which were both breakthroughs in the pop-folk genre. Plenty of her colleagues and friends knew them in person, but she herself hadn’t actually met them or even attended one of their shows yet. Then Anya had to suppress a chuckle at the coincidence, because the Beach Boys concert she and Gail were just talking about was going to include the Byrds as the opener. What were the odds? 

“Just think first next time,” the cop’s voice said suddenly bringing her back to reality. “The next officer might not be as forgiving as me,” he ended before stepping away from the foursome.

“Of course! We won’t forget,” the man with his arm around Gail claimed with an exaggerated wave convincing Anya his reassurance was primarily for good appearance. She had a hard time believing their fame or charm could successfully bluff their way out of a ticket, but what did she know? Plenty of rockstars back in London had gotten away with much worse while out of town. When the policeman turned the corner out of sight, the young men let go of the ladies with a slightly awkward pause drifting between them. 

“Thank you,” Anya evidently broke the silence. “That was kind of you.”

The tall man next to her smiled. “So you really are from out of town?” He asked referring to her obvious English accent.

“Well, originally…but now I’m a resident,” she informed casually. “I’m sure if Gail wasn’t with me, I could have attempted that excuse with the cop,” she theorized motioning to her friend as an intro on who ‘Gail’ was.

“Probably,” he agreed and held out his hand. “My name’s Chris. This is Dave,” he introduced himself and his friend.

“Anya,” she replied as she accepted his handshake.

“Can we interest you two in a couple of drinks?” Dave smoothly offered.

Gail immediately gasped and jumped exuberantly in approval. “Oh my God, yes!” 

The question was so natural and almost prepared, Anya couldn’t help but laugh. “How much did you pay that cop to confront us?”

Chris shook his head slightly. “Oh no, that wasn’t planned. I mean, we were hoping you’d be interested, but it was completely sporadic. We just left a rehearsal,” he claimed with his smile returning.

Anya smirked with an arched brow, still fairly skeptical of the whole incident being a chance of fate, but also enjoying the unexpected meeting. She took a glimpse at her wrist watch and found it was already five minutes to 6:00 PM. And Gail was clearly interested in sticking around with the music stars. 

“So…?” Dave lingered while motioning back and forth between the guys and the girls in anticipation.

Anya looked to Gail who just nodded rapidly with a grin.

“Well…alright, sure,” she finally responded with genuineness. 

The three others exhaled in pleasant relief. “What’s your guys’ favorite club? The Whisky?” Dave suggested.

“Oh, I normally would, but…I actually work there,” Gail answered semi-apologetically.

“Gazzarri’s?” Chris tried in return.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” she agreed with a nod. “You good, Anya?”

“Of course,” the English woman assured. “Do you two need a lift?”

“No, we have my car,” Chris answered idly and pointed down the street to the location of the vehicle.

“Alright, see you in a few minutes,” she ended before Gail grabbed her own car keys from her handbag. The four new acquaintances parted with a wave until 20 minutes later they were gathered again inside the popular dance club. Chris and Dave made it inside first, with Anya and Gail arriving to see they had grabbed two, small high-top tables next to each other in the corner of the club. It was still early so hardly anyone else was in the building and the club’s famous dancers wouldn’t be present until later. When they made it over to the tables, Gail sat with Dave on his side while Anya was next to Chris again. Soon enough the two pairs ordered drinks, with Anya and Gail opting for cocktails while the musicians settled simply on a couple of beers. Anya quickly discovered that Chris was in fact Chris Hillman, the bassist of the Byrds; and Dave was David Crosby, the band’s rhythm guitarist and one of their songwriters. When the brunette grabbed a cigarette from her purse to light, she noticed both men each take out a joint after subtly looking around the room. Chris offered her the drug while taking out his own lighter, but she shook her head to decline.

“No thank you. Drugs do nothing for me,” she revealed plainly while raising both her drink and cigarette in her right hand as a cheers and also to show her preferences.

Chris nodded contently, placed the substance back in his jacket pocket and took out his own cigarette to light.

“Oh, don’t let me stop you from having fun,” she insisted with her hand extended to assure him. “I realize I’m in the minority,” the assistant continued with a brief glance over to David and Gail to see her friend had taken up the popstar’s offer with his own joint.

Chris smiled in appreciation and took a small drag of his cig. “You’re fine. It’s probably a good idea for me to remember what it’s like to hang out with people who don’t get stoned anyway,” he joked and took a swig of beer. 

Anya shrugged a shoulder. “Probably not much difference if alcohol is involved. I just don’t care for seeing rainbows or feeling light-headed for hours on end,” she explained.

“I get it,” he assured coolly. “It’s admirable when someone doesn’t give in to pressure or feel out of place.”

“I’ve seen enough rock musicians act like idiots while on speed or hash for it to barely have an effect on me by now,” Anya drolly commented as she took a sip of her drink. “It gets dull very quickly.”

Chris scooted forward an extra inch, now intrigued by her comments. “What do you do for a living?”

She took an extra drag of her cigarette before tapping the edge on to the ashtray. “I worked with band management back in London, but now I’m in Atlantic’s offices. I’m sort of a ‘girl Friday’ if anyone still uses that expression.”

“A Jane of all trades,” Chris said cheekily which got her to snort in jest.

“Sure,” she agreed with her own lopsided cheek. 

“Can’t imagine why you’d want to fly all the way out here with everything exciting going on in London nowadays,” Chris considered with another gulp of beer.

Anya straightened her posture for a moment before replying. “Well, the grass is greener on the other side, as they say.”

“True,” he agreed with a nod. “Any big clients you can brag about to make me feel envious?” He asked playfully.

She barely held back a grin while raising her cigarette to her mouth. “Maybe one…”

“Who?”

“Well, there’s your answer,” she said slyly.

His brow creased slightly confused. “…The Who?”

She nodded a couple of times as if the truth were no big deal. 

Chris chuckled in shock. “Wow. I was wondering why only Gail acted starstruck earlier, but now I know why.”

“Well, don’t sell yourself short,” she clarified. “You’re in a fine group as well. I was the band’s manager’s secretary. You can imagine how disillusioning it can get being around mods and rockers all the time. But showbusiness is fun and the beach is nice. So here I am,” she concluded with a light clink to his beer bottle with her glass and noticed his expression turn pensive.

“…I think I’ve actually heard of you,” he revealed suddenly.

Her brows rose in mild surprise, not sure how he could be aware of her while she was still in England. “Oh?”

“When we were playing the UK leg of our first tour, I remember hearing a rumor Pete Townshend was seeing an older woman,” he expanded.

Anya was silent for a few long seconds as she grimaced from the reply. One because she didn’t realize her past fling had become common knowledge. Another was because she sometimes was referred to as ‘older’ even though the celebrities she was associated with were usually only a couple years younger. She wasn’t homely or masculine looking, and plenty of people had made it clear she was considered attractive. So Anya still couldn’t pinpoint what it was about her that made people think this. But rather than take offensive and correct Chris, she studied his own appearance. Despite his height, his face was rather boyish and he had a youthful demeanor about him, though not in a juvenile way. “…How old are you?” She wondered out loud.

He smiled with amusement. “Twenty-one.”

She mentally calculated he would be about a year older than Pete. To her mind, a few years younger really wasn’t much different than a few years older.

“Want to see my driver’s license?” He joked while animatedly going for his jacket pocket when she didn’t say anything. 

“No,” she replied shaking her head with a smile. “I take it you assumed I was older too?” 

“Well, not exactly ‘older,’” Chris altered. “But you do have this…poise and aura about you that exudes sophistication and class,” he flattered honestly. 

Anya had another moment of speechlessness, not expecting such a complimentary study from their brief encounter. She didn’t doubt he got this impression from her background and ‘fancy’ accent. “Thank you,” she accepted with a soft breath. There was another, more comfortable pause between them until Anya answered the unasked question. “I’m 24, by the way. Since last month.”

Chris playfully nudged her elbow. “See, that’s not so bad. I shudder to think what you might have done for Pete to start that rumor.”

She flipped her hair over shoulder as she stubbed out the last bit of her cigarette into the ashtray. “I don’t think I necessarily did anything, so much as a 23-year-old woman probably appears a decade older to any 19-year-old boy…which I figured out relatively quickly,” she ended ambiguously. 

Sensing the past beau might be a sensitive subject, Chris tried to lighten the mood for a change. “Well, don’t feel too down. I’ve gone out with plenty of younger girls to make up for it,” he assured in a faux-consolation. 

That got a light laugh out of her. “I appreciate the support,” she passed back in equal sarcasm at him suggesting the opposite was just as taboo. “Pete and I didn’t date, for the record. We just shagged.”

Chris was momentarily a little taken aback by her bluntness before setting his cigarette on the side of the ashtray. 

“But anyways. I think we’ve covered enough of me currently. What about you?” Anya asked while grabbing the rest of her cocktail. “Is there a girl in your life?”

“Not particularly,” he answered calmly. “I actually haven’t had a girlfriend since high school, to be honest.”

Anya didn’t buy that. “A celibate popstar? I guess there really is a first for everything.”

Chris scratched the back of his head a bit self-consciously. “Not exactly…”

She got the hint right away. “Ah…” She released with an understanding nod. “Well, I know how that goes,” she assured simply.

He smiled and took a big swig of his beer before standing up from his seat. “It’s lucky I found out you’re a legitimate music fan,” he said.

“How so?” She asked intrigued a little.

“Well…I’ve enjoyed meeting you…and we actually have a show tomorrow night…if you want a new addition to your ticket stub collection,” he suggested hopefully.

Anya grinned at his offer as if she wasn’t having trouble remembering the last time she even needed to pay for her own concert ticket. “I know. I’m actually already planning to attend,” she revealed coyly.

Chris was surprised, though welcoming. “Really?”

She nodded. “I know the Beach Boys,” she confessed nonchalantly.

Chris’ amused shock returned. “Look at you already a part of the A-list,” he cheeked. “Even the bands who aren’t signed to Atlantic.”

Anya swallowed the last sip of her drink before setting it down. “Well, neither are the Byrds,” she quipped for fun. “Brian and I are close, so I’ve grown to spend a lot of time with those guys.”

“That’s great,” Chris said sincerely. “Especially since it sounds like Brian’s turned into a couch potato since the last record tanked,” he added referring to the Beach Boys’ most recent album, ‘Pet Sounds.’

Her face suddenly turned serious. “He’s frustrated. It’s not his fault people are too daft to appreciate his song work,” Anya defended with a bit more edge in her voice than she intended.

Chris cocked an eyebrow at the abrupt defense. “For sure…anyone responsible for that many top 10 hits would be blind-sided by the rejection. I just meant I’m surprised he’s still playing local concerts since ditching the tours,” he claimed neutrally.

She ran a hand through her hair and nodded as she tried to regain her cool right as Chris chose to step away from the high top. “Done already?” She asked surprised.

“Oh no, I’m just going to use the restroom, heh,” he replied sheepishly before motioning to the corner of the room as he walked away. Anya watched him leave for a moment before turning to see David and Gail had quickly become familiar with each other enough for the former to have his arm rest on the top of Gail’s seat. Anya shook her head lightly as her friend didn’t seem to mind the closeness at all. While the day didn’t end exactly how she had in mind, the weekend was certainly looking interesting.


	2. Lady Friend

Ch. 2: Lady Friend

Hollywood, June 1966

The next morning, Anya awoke in her West Hollywood apartment from a sound sleep to the shrilling noise of a phone ringing. It took a couple of rings before she raised her head and rubbed an eye as she reached for the bedroom extension—a very generous goodbye present from Kit—on the bedrest. She groggily picked up the receiver while moving her bedridden hair away from her face. “Hullo?” She mumbled sleepily.

“Where the bloody hell have you been? Your mother and I have been ringing for ages at all times of day, and you’re convenien—”

The irritated voice of an older English man was suddenly cut off by Anya deciding to close her eyes and drop the phone back on its end without speaking. It wasn’t ideal for her to be neglecting her own father, but it didn’t help that they have never had a close relationship to begin with. While she was a bored schoolgirl, he was busy being stern, standoffish and making sure everything was in place or going to plan with the estate and chocolate empire. When she announced to her parents she was going to work in the music industry, it was hardly a surprise they didn’t approve and looked down on the fairly new rock community. And it was an even less of a surprise it affected her already dysfunctional family dynamic. The socialite rolled over in her sheets to lay on her back and mull over her current life situation. Constantly running farther and farther away didn’t really solve anything, but at the same time, how else was she supposed to live her life freely with them always over her shoulder? While Anya hadn’t bothered to even begin to explain herself to her father, speaking with her mother, Margaret, was usually decent. Even if the older woman was still very old-fashioned.

“You’re never going to get on his good side if you keep doing this, you know,” Anya’s mother informed her over the phone the week she moved to LA. 

“Not that I know what his ‘good side’ is like anyway,” the daughter dryly reminded. “He should be happy for my success.”

“His main priority is not out to destroy your life as you seem to believe it is,” Margaret reminded. “He’s thinking of all of us, your choices reflect back on this whole family—especially with such a public occupation.”

“No one in the states knows who we are anyway,” Anya argued while lazily gazing outside her apartment window.

“So this is how it’s going to be? Now that you’re in America, we’re never going to see you again?” she pressed, now sounding concerned. “And you’re reaching 25. What if you find a husband and have children? Are we just not going to meet them?”

“I don’t know. I’m pretty busy these days. Kids aren’t exactly the first thing on my mind,” the younger woman claimed casually.

Anya broke her mind of the memory to stand up from the bed and decide on what to wear to the double-billed concert tonight. She was originally looking forward to just seeing Brian, but now she was extra intrigued with what the night might bring since meeting Chris. To get into the mood, she put her copy of ‘Turn! Turn! Turn!’ on her record player while getting ready to start the day.

By the time evening rolled around, Anya and Gail arrived at the Hollywood Bowl venue around ten minutes before the Byrds’ set was supposed to begin and went straight for backstage with their token VIP cards. Anya wore a long sleeved, grey mini-dress that covered her upper body, but exposed nearly all of her legs, and white ankle boots. Her hair was down, though with the edges swooped out to a bouncy style. Gail also wore a mini-dress, but green and sleeveless, with sandals and her hair left natural. The Brit showed powder, mascara and lipstick for make-up while Gail had the same plus some blue eye shadow for extra flair.

Inside the private lounge room, the two young women found that none of the Beach Boys had arrived yet, but all of the Byrds were present and ready to start the show. The atmosphere of the backstage area wasn’t any different than past concerts Anya has attended. There were band members, roadies, venue staff, PR and media correspondents all preparing and warming up for the performances, plus a few (what she presumed were) regular groupies seated on the couch and chatting. Chris was by the wings speaking with Byrds drummer Michael Clarke, and David excused himself from talking with one of the groupies to grab his guitar. The female friends navigated near the couch for lack of a better place to place to stand, but were greeted with glares and hesitation from the three other girls. Anya was used to competition within the groupie scene, even if just as witness on the sidelines, as she didn’t consider herself the label. Still, being snubbed never felt good, even with expectation. Fortunately, before either she or Gail could feel any tension, Chris noticed them and waved them over. 

“Hey, glad you made it,” he greeted as the women stepped in front of him. 

“Of course,” Anya returned in a light tone. “Not the most welcoming bunch, is it?” She asked rhetorically motioning to the couch of girls.

Chris glanced over to where she was referencing with barely any emotion. He shrugged. “They’re just allergic to smiling.”

Anya found the nonchalance of his sarcastic excuse amusing. 

“Looks like you’ve got a big crowd already,” Gail commented while taking a tiny peek through the wings.

Chris glimpsed into the audience behind him for a couple seconds. “Yeah. Good thing we’re not playing with the Beatles, huh?”

Anya’s brow creased in confusion until it hit her he wasn’t being snarky. “Because of the screaming girls?”

He nodded. “We have our own share of that, but I’ll never get used it.”

“Don’t worry, Dennis will be getting most of the screams anyway,” Gail quipped in support of her favorite Beach Boy.

Chris smirked right before noticing his bandmates were making their way to the stage. “Well, make yourselves comfortable and enjoy the show until your fave raves arrive,” he parted in jest. The girls wished him luck in return and Anya’s face held a coy smile as she turned to watch the concert from stage left. 

While she and Gail stood by for the first couple of songs, Anya studied the Byrds’ live playing. They were far from terrible, which wasn’t a surprise since the LP recordings were stellar. But they did struggle like every other band with their sound being buried in the midst of all the teenage girls shrieking. Besides this, there were other aspects of their playing that stood out in both good and unorthodox ways. The biggest void on stage was clearly the loss of arguably their best songwriter and co-vocalist, Gene Clark who quit the band back in February. This would explain why they were performing more covers than original songs than they probably would be otherwise. Another was that the drummer, Michael, was not the most trained musician, though he did his best to keep up with the rest of the band. Anya was surprised by this a little, as she hadn’t heard any rumors of the band secretly using session musicians for their tracks like some groups, and thought his drumming sounded fine on record. Then there was David, who was a good songwriter and singer; but would sneak in comments for attention in between songs, which she found a bit obnoxious. It was also a contrast with Chris, who for the most part, kept to himself on the far-left side of the stage completely stone-faced. The lack of enthusiasm reminded Anya of the fellow bassist of her former Who clients, John Entwistle, compared to Brian, who was all smiles on stage with his own bass. 

The best part of their set was without a doubt the frontman and obvious leader of the band, Jim McGuinn. Whether it be him holding his own with the most vocals, or having to carry the show as lead guitarist, or his effortlessly cool presence with his casual suit or ironic granny sunglasses which had become his trademark. Anya had heard through the grapevine he began his career as a studio player and backup touring musician before forming his own band. It certainly showed with how well he could lead each song and even cue the other bandmates when they might need it. She made a mental reminder to commend Jim on his playing when the Byrds were done for the night. 

Near twenty minutes into the show, the Beach Boys and their crew finally arrived. Gail high-tailed it for Dennis as if she hadn’t just spent the previous night drinking and smoking with David. Anya shook her head playfully at her friend’s erratic behavior before her body naturally headed over to Brian when he was the last band member to enter the room. He instantly recognized her and they greeted in a tight hug with warm smiles. Despite her announcement to Gail yesterday, despite the fact that his wife Marilyn could have tagged along with him and despite her genuine interest in the Byrds’ gig; Anya made the most of the greeting and spent the rest of the first half of the concert speaking with Brian. She was still so taken with him, that she couldn’t help but put all her focus on their conversation. She didn’t even bother to care or wonder if anyone had noticed she was one of the few people Brian was even having legitimate discussions with outside his family since becoming a recluse.

Another twenty minutes quickly went by until Brian’s brother and bandmate Carl informed him they needed to grab their instruments and set up the stage. Anya took a step back nodding understandably, though with a happy grin still on her face. The music artist gave her another tight hug and squeezed her hand anxiously as she assured him the group were going to be wonderful. Her smile was stuck on her lips as she watched him grab his bass and step in front of the fans after the Byrds bowed and exited. It wasn’t until Chris walked up to her that she broke out of her trance. 

“Shucks,” he said with a pseudo-finger snap. “We didn’t even hold your attention for the whole gig,” he joked.

She rolled her eyes while still smiling. “I guess you’ll just have to invite me back for another one.”

Chris was both surprised and impressed Anya was apparently already interested in seeing the band again. “I just might,” he said pleased before moving past her to put his bass away in its case. While he was occupied, Anya saw Jim close his guitar case and place his sunglasses in his jacket pocket on the other side of the room. She was already more familiar with the Beach Boys’ live shows, so she took her time leisurely wandering around backstage and officially introducing herself. When she reached the guitarist, he hadn’t sensed her presence yet.

“Hello, Jim.”

He glanced up when he heard his name and paused, clearly trying to decipher how he knew the young woman in front of him. After a few long seconds, Anya spoke again.

“You don’t know me. My name’s Anya. I came as Chris’ guest,” she explained, momentarily forgetting she was actually invited via Brian. 

“Ah…” he started as though he wasn’t sure where she was going with her intro.

“I enjoyed your band’s show tonight. Very effective and not as polarizing as it could have been,” she complimented candidly.

“Terrific,” he returned as he leaned against the wall next to him coolly. “What every musician wants to hear.”

“It’s impressive neither you nor David sounded out of tune from the screams,” she continued. “That happened quite a lot when I saw the Hollies perform.”

The name-drop made Jim curiously skeptical. “You’re not with the press, are you?” He investigated, though with a sardonic tone.

“No,” she smirked. “I work for Atlantic.”

“Ah, a competitor,” he carried on. “I’m not sure if that’s better or worse.”

“I’m pretty good at keeping a secret. So probably the former,” she said plainly.

“Good to know,” he agreed with a bit of an uncertain linger. 

“I don’t have an agenda,” she nonchalantly insisted. When he didn’t reply to her claim, she tried again. “I like the way you play guitar. You’re not indulgent with your solos like Clapton or Beck, and from listening to the records you seem to care about the technological specifics of the instrument too. Plus every folkie in New York and LA has been trying to steal your tone for the past year.”

Jim appeared a little impressed with her flattery. “Well, Eric and Jeff are bluesmen, which isn’t really my forte. But I appreciate the feedback.”

Anya extended her hand with a small grin. “Always happy to meet a legend in the industry,” she assured with genuineness. He accepted her handshake with his own smile, amused and intrigued with the new acquaintance. Anya on the other end, was satisfied to meet someone interesting, yet in a completely platonic and friendly manner.

For the rest of the night, the brunette alternated between chatting with Chris and Michael, and watching some of the Beach Boys’ set while the other band was held up with meeting fans invited backstage. At one point she did try to introduce herself to the reluctant groupies, though they didn’t bother to hide their disinterest with her. Anya did later find out the girls’ names were Christine Hinton, Debbie Donovan and Reine Stewart, with the former two moonlighting as the presidents of the Byrds’ fanclub. She also got the sense maybe something had gone on between Reine and Chris since the pretty brown-haired girl didn't appear pleased with how much Anya was speaking to the light-haired bassist. And as for Gail, the bubbly former model had hopped from chatting with Dennis to mingling with David…again.

In what felt like no time at all, Anya suddenly heard the crowd’s cheering turn extra loud and rowdy. She turned her head to find the Beach Boys waving and smiling while rushing off the stage. She smiled with pride until it became obvious the family group were being led out of the venue right away with barely any partings after packing up their instruments. This explained why she noticed the band were already signing autographs and taking photos with the selected fans at the same time as the Byrds were playing. But she was still disappointed to not properly tell Brian goodbye. When Anya turned around, she found Gail still interested in speaking with David and didn’t seem to notice Dennis was gone. She glanced back to the exit door to see Chris sign a record for who appeared to be the final fan left in the building. After the young girl thanked him with a smile before skipping off, Chris looked up to see Anya heading his way. 

“No after-party tonight?” She asked while placing her bag on her shoulder.

“Guess not,” he replied simply. “Looks like David and Gail hit it off,” he referred to the pair on the opposite end of the room.

“Apparently,” she agreed knowing it will probably be a while before Gail would want to return home and knew she could find a ride from someone else, including David. When Gail sensed Anya looking at her and gave her an understanding wave. As much as Anya liked her friend, she also knew Gail could be a flake on occasion, so she prioritized to get her own American license and car the week they moved to LA.

“And you?” Chris asked while following her out.

She glimpsed back to him before stepping down the stairs to the parking structure. “Oh, I can always find somewhere to go on a Saturday evening. I might just go to bed early since we had so much fun last night,” she considered.

“Admirable. Especially with this crowd,” Chris offered as they left the building and carried through to the line of cars. Anya was a little surprised he kept in tow with her, finding it hard to believe he parked so close to her own vehicle. But she didn’t dwell on it since she was enjoying their chats. 

“Almost as admirable as you ditching your own cheerleaders,” Anya said pointing back to the venue in reference to the groupies.

The bassist followed her finger’s direction lazily. “Eh, probably past their bedtimes.”

She snorted, though in amusement, and chose to assume he was being facetious with the excuse. Right then, she recognized her car near them and grabbed her key from inside her bag. “Well that was a fun stroll to my car,” she offered while tossing her bag onto the front passenger seat. 

“I thought so,” he returned idly. When Anya leaned back up to face him there was a silent pause, as if neither knew how to end the moment. She eventually placed her hand out with a smile as a farewell, which Chris accepted sincerely. After a couple shakes, she felt him run his thumb over her hand while gracefully pulling her forward into a warm embrace. Anya’s hands instinctively landed around him. She felt his lips on hers in an instance with her eyes closing from the sensation. His lips were soft and she felt her heart even skip a beat from the intimacy. It came so natural that she instantly swooned rather than be startled from the possibly hasty gesture. After what felt like an eternity, which was actually closer to seven seconds, he pulled away once slightly parting their lips. She felt serene when they separated, with her eyes still closed after the kiss ended. 

“…Hope I didn’t overstep a boundary…” Anya heard Chris’ voice with a hesitant tone. She’s had first kisses on first dates in the past, so it wasn’t totally out of ordinary for her. She liked that he considered her feelings though, and it made her realize this must be an unusual, out-of-character reaction from him. 

“No. I liked it,” Anya confirmed while opening her eyes and felt his thumb run across the top of her arm before releasing her. She thought she saw his face soften a little with the verification too.

“I’ve really enjoyed the last couple of days,” he announced calmly as his arms fell back to his sides.

“Me too,” she agreed after letting out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding in.

“I’d ask when I can see you again, but we’re actually leaving for a tour in a couple of days,” he revealed with what she couldn’t tell was regret or hope. 

Anya didn’t respond immediately and instead took a few moments to think about what this could mean in the future. “I can’t travel that long unless it’s for a job. And I’m already working pretty hard against the groupie label,” she added with a smirk to keep the mood light.

Chris gave an understanding nod as he ran a hand through his hair. “Unless you’re changing your mind on going to bed early…” He suggested cheekily, though she could tell it was a legitimate offer as well.

“I think we had the right idea already,” she reassured to show she wasn’t too easy even with her past occasional interest in casual sex. And because she was curious enough to see how interested he would be without the sex. Then something occurred to her. “You four wouldn’t happen to be recording at Columbia tomorrow, would you?”

He shook his head. “Our next record is set for fall. Why?”

“I want to give you my telephone number, but I don’t have a pen or notepad on me,” she replied sheepishly.

“Ah,” Chris understood before going for something in his jacket pocket. “I have a pen, but no paper…” He revealed exposing the object.

Anya bit the side of her lip in thought. “…How much do you trust me?”

Chris titled his head intrigued on what she might be thinking of. The young lady grabbed his pen and reached for his hand with her own after uncapping the object. She turned over his hand to begin writing on his palm and hoped she wasn’t piercing his skin too hard. She found him with an enthused expression after writing the phone number down. He looked at his ink-stained hand before raising her left hand and writing his own digits on her flesh. Anya also got a kick out of the little exchange as he re-capped and placed the utensil back in his pocket.

“Well, aren’t we the perfect schoolyard couple,” she tossed lightly.

Chris chuckled. “Definitely.”

She smiled. “Don’t fade the ink too soon now.”

“Likewise,” he returned just as contently.

Before finally ending the evening, she ran fingers through his golden hair slowly. “Is this real?” She asked referring to the straight, mop top style and noticed his eyes slightly dilate.

“No…it’s curly,” he answered truthfully.

Anya studied his face and hair a little longer while opening her car door again. “Looks good,” she complimented to another smile out of Chris. “Enjoy the tour,” she wished before leaning down to sit in her car seat. He waved goodbye while stepping back from the car for her to turn on the engine and back out.


	3. Time Between

Ch. 3: Time Between

West Hollywood, September 1966

Anya had spent plenty of times talking on the phone with beaus and dates in the past. But this summer really set a record for how many hours and nights she would make use of the machine while the Byrds were playing all over the country. When she wasn’t running around the label offices or into the city to make sure a radio station was playing enough Cream singles, or having to write a quick public statement on why some rockstar had to get impromptu wedding and so on; Anya was getting her own personal lesson on Chris’ band’s history. She would find out things like how of all the band members, David was the oldest at 25 and Michael, with his fabulous Brian Jones-esque hair, was the youngest at barely 20. She was also baffled to hear David was supposedly the biggest ladies’ man in the group and surprised Jim was already on his second marriage. She wasn’t shocked to discover the rock musicians were already over miming performances on variety music programs like “Shindig” and “Hullabaloo” or how they found it degrading to be featured in teenybopper zines like Tiger Beat and Flip. Chris even felt comfortable enough to tell Anya about how the foursome could put aside their contrasting personalities in the studio and local gigs, but lose patience with each other by the end of touring. Anya wasn’t new to bandmates not being super friendly with each other, as the Who had a similar dynamic, but she sensed there was even more tension going on with the Byrds off stage. 

While she could see and hear an artistic loss with Gene Clark gone, she was now getting the impression his presence also held the band together as a unit, with Gene, Chris and Michael the bandmates who got along the best. Still, even with the songwriter of their biggest original songs out of the picture, the Byrds were far from over if their more recent singles like ‘Eight Miles High’ and ‘Why’ were anything to go by. Chris had gotten into a habit of calling Anya nearly every other night, but occasionally he would send her a postcard or even a handwritten letter which gradually grew more intimate. The secretary wrote to the musician a few times as well, though chose to mail them directly to his house in Laurel Canyon, almost like a special gift for when he returned home. Anya did do her share of research on the pop-folk band with visiting the local library for old articles in publications like KRLA Beat or NME; or asking her colleagues and friends who knew the bandmates when she found rumors she thought might be too nosy or lack tact as an outsider. Such as whether it was true Chris and Michael didn’t learn bass and drums until after they joined the group or why Terry Melcher—one of the hottest record producers in LA—only lasted with them for the debut and sophomore albums. 

Anya also learned a lot on Chris’ musical background of beginning with mandolin and acoustic guitar as a teenager in local bands; as well as his family upbringing in the quaint and modest areas of San Diego not so close to the beach. Anya had plenty of stories on her early secretary days traveling with the Who and working with other superstar clients through Track. But she would try to be discreet or ambiguous with her own family and childhood experiences, which Chris caught on to pretty quickly, and finally acknowledged during a phone call while the rock band was stopped in New York City.

“So am I going to hear all about your Anglo history at some point?” He joked on the other line while Anya was seated at her kitchen counter while peeling and eating an orange. 

She signed as the topic was brought directly to her attention. “Oh, you know…it’s pretty dull, really…stereotypical, even.”

“Did you go to an all-girls boarding school or something?” He continued humorously.

She bit the inside of her cheek reluctantly before answering. “Well…it was all-girls, but I lived at home.”

“Oh, I think I get the idea now,” he suggested. “More of an upper-middle class community?”

“…Bit higher than the middle,” she lingered again.

“Oh, really?” She heard intrigue in his voice.

“Uh huh…” 

“Sounds like your dad must be pretty successful. Or your mom?” 

“It’s…both, actually. Both sides of the family live comfortably, as the saying goes,” she confessed grudgingly.

Chris chose to keep taking the barely helpful bait. “It’s been a while since I’ve played a guessing game, but I’m having fun so far,” he commented in jest. “Am I close in picturing your father as an executive type?”

“Yes…”

“Hmm…well, this could be anything, heh,” he suddenly gave up.

Anya sighed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before throwing him a bone. “Do you like chocolate?”

“Oh, sure. Is your dad involved with Hershey’s?”

“More like the only chocolate company in the world more successful than them…” She finally revealed.

There was a pause before Chris spoke again. “…Cadbury?”

When he was met with silence for a few long moments, Anya heard a surprised laugh on the other end. “Jesus, you weren’t joking about being upper class.”

She let out a defeated breath as she rubbed the bridge of her nose. 

“Alright, so your dad works for a really big chocolate company,” he continued as she sulked. “Anya, do you realize how many people would kill for that kind of life?”

The English woman’s self-consciousness was instantly replaced with defense. “Well, I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t choose to be born with a grandmother with the surname ‘Cadbury.’”

Chris reacted with another startled chuckle. “It’s fine. I’ve just never asked out a girl who’s one tiara away from royalty before,” he retorted with what she figured was a smirk on his face.

Anya really wished they could change the topic already. “I guess you now think I’m just some spoiled brat who grew up with too much to enjoy, yes?”

“I didn’t say that,” he assured. “Should I switch from riding western to English if I ever stop by the neighborhood?” He joked.

“Very funny,” she cracked sardonically. “That probably wouldn’t happen any time soon, anyway.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah…I’m not speaking to my father currently…” She confessed cautiously once more.

“Ah…” He sounded like he got the message. “That happens. Could be a lot worse,” he reassured simply, though with a vague, somber tone. A more comfortable silence passed between them for a second before Anya switched subjects.

“So…how’s the Big Apple?”

“Oh, New York’s always great,” he answered lightly. “Even better if you were here to be my tour guide,” he flattered.

The compliment got a natural smile from her. “I didn’t live there for very long, you know. You’re probably just as familiar with the city from touring as I was as a resident.”

Another month went by of Anya’s new routine of work at day, phoning Chris at night, and club and party hopping with Gail on the weekend until the band returned home. Throughout the summer season, the brunette noticed she was also spending less time with Brian, but found she didn’t mind so much since becoming friendly with Chris. She did mean it when she thought it would be a good idea for them to take a break before they could possibly get carried away with anything, and Chris was a great substitute so far. It did run through her mind Brian not socializing should be a little worrying, but she also knew he had his own family around if anything serious happened. 

When the last week of October rolled around, Anya planned to meet the Byrds at LAX Airport to personally drive Chris’ home that night. There was an excited feeling in her chest when she saw him exit down the stairway of the jet. She practically skipped up to him when he noticed her waiting at the end of the runway path from the plane into the airport. The pair naturally met each other with a big hug that lingered for a few seconds, each smiling happily. When she pulled away to take a good look at him, she found his appearance wasn’t too different from when she last saw him in person four months ago. His hair now had a part down the middle rather than in its previous bowl style, but was still mostly straight. She found it attractive and hip, until her eyes kept going down his face…

“What in the hell is this?” Anya asked faux-aghast as her fingers ran along his jaw which had some predominant stubble that went under his chin. 

“It’s part of our radical and rebellious image,” Chris replied with a lopsided smile as her hand fell from his face.

“It looks like you gave up shaving halfway down your face,” she tossed plainly. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” she added with her own smirk.

There was a pleasant silence between them while enjoyably gazing at each other for the first time in months before Chris wrapped his arm around her. Anya raised one of her hands to his shoulder right as their lips touched. It was chaste and closed-mouthed, but still confirmed for both that there were still sparks between them physically. They separated a couple moments later with a blissful breath and let go of their bodies while their eyes opened. Anya playfully tugged on his arm and directed them to the baggage claim ramp. “Come on, let me buy you dinner.”

“Alright. But only if I can pay for dessert,” Chris passed back as his arm landed on her shoulder while they strolled out.


	4. You and Me

Ch. 4: You and Me

Laurel Canyon, December 1966

The last two months of 1966 were the fastest two months Anya could remember flying by in a long while. While summer went by swiftly from looking forward to Chris’ phone calls, the new couple now didn’t waste any time being together in person when Anya wasn’t busy promoting Atlantic’s superstars and Chris wasn’t held up with the band. The two were so infatuated with each other that Anya could say Brian wasn’t anywhere near the front of her mind anymore. Which was a relief, even if she still liked the songwriter-producer as a person. Fate seemed to be currently blessing her a relatively normal courtship beyond the long-distance origin. Anya didn’t even really have to feel bad about prioritizing her free time with Chris over hanging out with Gail, because a lot had happened for the socialite too. Within a grand total of three weeks back in November, Gail was over her groupie antics, completely head over heels for avant garde rock musician Frank Zappa and now spending nearly all her time with him. Which was fine with Anya since she had quickly grown a habit of occasionally spending some nights at Chris’ groovy place in the Canyon.

One thing Anya wasn’t expecting from her new beau was that Chris was actually quiet and stoic in crowds and on camera, rather than just on stage while performing. From the way he was so enthusiastic and interested in their private conversations, she never would guess he was so serious and even appear shy in social settings. On the rare chance she had a day off when the group were at Columbia Recording Studios for their fourth LP, Anya would stop by to visit Chris and also get a sense of how the foursome meshed together on the job. Chris and Jim were always professional and ‘in the zone’ for composing and recording, while David and Michael would sometimes need to be reeled in from messing around (especially David). There was also something just a little off about Jim as a collaborator that Anya couldn’t put her finger on. The most shocking part was how the band basically never got together to learn new material outside of the studio. Anya had never heard of a traditional band spending so much studio time on just practicing, but hey, the songs always ended up sounding good, so what did she know? One of her favorite things about showbusiness and the music industry was that nothing was ever boring and predictable. Plus Chris was even contributing songwriting for this record, which was great since he was essentially only part of the rhythm on the previous albums (although very good rhythm).

By the time Christmas came along, Anya was glad for a couple extra days off to enjoy the holiday. Late Christmas Eve night, Chris and Anya lounged comfortably in the former’s living room with the brunette laid next to the decorated tree with a cup of tea. The bassist loosely jammed on the couch with his traditional mandolin and a cup of coffee on the coffeetable next to them.

“Alright,” Anya began after a sip of tea and placing the cup on the table to sit up straight. “As lovely as that sounds, I think you’ll like what I have wrapped for you,” she revealed airily.

Chris interest piqued as he paused his playing. “Oh? The belt you got me for my birthday was already pretty snazzy,” he reminisced at her first present for him two weeks ago.

“Yes, but it’s Christmas and I refuse to be cheap and combine gifts,” she insisted plainly while going under the tree to grab a rather large box. It was probably extravagant of her to go so out of her way for a someone she’s known for less than a year, but she couldn’t help it. Chris was a great guy, so something like a book would seem predictable and things like a new radio or record player too redundant. Yet, music was his main passion, so…she just got the best thing she could think of. 

“Feels pretty heavy,” he commented and even shook the item a couple of times. Anya just smiled silently as he slowly pulled apart the nicely wrapped present. She had someone from the Atlantic offices with a knack for this sort of thing put it together. When Chris got the paper off, he found plain brown box usually used for shipping large objects. She liked the curious expression on his face, until he looked like he was about to get up. “I think I need the scis—”

“Already ahead of you,” she smirked and grabbed a pair of scissors she left behind the tree on purpose. 

He grinned in appreciation before taking the object from her, but paused again. She didn’t really understand his hesitation. “You know it’s technically not really Christmas until tomorrow…” He lingered as an offer.

Anya shrugged and took a very quick glance at her wrist watch to see it was 11:10 PM. “Close enough. We’re at the age where we’re each other’s Santa Claus and it’s less than an hour from midnight as it is.”

Chris’ smile returned earnestly as he seemed to mostly relax again before tearing the box open with the scissors. When the top flap opened his face showed bewilderment and his voice was speechless. After a lengthy moment, the musician reached in and exposed an old, authentically vintage mandolin out of a pile of brown confetti. Anya made sure to get the oldest, yet still in shape, instrument she could find in the country. It took her a little more than two weeks to find it in the south (New Orleans, specifically) and the expert she found through one of Jim’s label connections assured her it was built in 1902. “Oh, wow…Aun…”

“I couldn’t think of anyone else I know who would appreciate this old thing,” she jested with a soft smile.

Chris examined the aged artifact in awe carefully and slowly. “I…don’t even want to know how much this cost.”

“Good, because I wouldn’t tell you anyway,” she teased again, though honestly.

He cautiously played a few chords to test out the tone and strings before setting it back in the box momentarily. “Thank you,” he said sincerely before leaning down to kiss her lips, which she instantly accepted while lifting herself to meet him. “Unfortunately, I can’t promise mine is as extravagant…” He lingered reluctantly regarding his own present for her.

Anya huffed lightly at his claim. “Oh, stop.” Then she reached back down under the tree to pick up a box about ¼ of the size of her gift to Chris, and noticed him in her peripheral vision appear slightly self-conscious. After unwrapping the box, she found a small set of fresh eyebrow pencils and eyeliner, as well as a new compact mirror for her purse. “This is very sweet, Chris,” she replied with a gentle grin and pecked his cheek. 

“I meant it when I said you could be a make-up artist if you weren’t in the music industry,” he suggested with a reminder to a previous chat they had last month. “Not that I’m a judge of that sort of thing, heh,” he ended sheepishly.

Anya smiled again. She didn’t wear a lot of make-up on a daily basis, since she’s always found it a little tacky to have a ton on for casual outings. But on the occasion where she dressed up a little nicer for a restaurant or house party, she did put more effort into her face. The heiress found during her teen years that she actually enjoyed the process and not just as a chore. As a result, many friends and acquaintances have mentioned how nice her make-up looks. “I did enjoy playing with crayons and paint as a child. I suppose it rubbed off on me subtly as an adult,” she contemplated before leaning up for a quick kiss. “Thank you, darling,” she returned this time with a hug. She felt him rub her back a couple times before they released each other.

“I actually sort of have an extra surprise too,” he confessed idly.

Her face perked up intrigued. “Well, see. I don’t even have that to go with my mandolin for you,” she nudged his knee playfully. “What is it?”

Chris chose to run his hand through her hair pleasantly and ask: “Do you remember when you visited the studio the week of Thanksgiving?”

“Mm-hm,” she answered peacefully with her eyes closed.

“And the song we were working on?”

Anya recollected for a moment the tracks the band was working on while she visited the past couple of times. “The track Jim and Dave wrote?”

He smiled knowingly. “No, the one I wrote.”

“Oh, yes,” she suddenly remembered and opened her eyes. “That sounded like a fun, little ditty from what I heard.” Anya was impressed by how much Chris had upped his game on the current album, with three songs composed completely by him. Though it didn’t escape her wondering if he would have gotten this much artistic freedom if Gene was still a band member. The song she happened to catch the group recording was a short, but cute tune called ‘Time Between’ which even featured Chris’ friend Clarence White on lead guitar instead of Jim. Most interesting was how the melody was influenced by Chris’ bluegrass roots instead of the group’s usual folk sound, as well as country inspired.

“I’m glad you thought so,” he concurred with a soft kiss on her hairline before announcing: “Because it’s yours.”

It took a few seconds for Anya to compute the statement before a smile gradually grew on her lips while the info sank in. “Really?”

He nodded simply with his own grin. “Should have been noticeable with the references to telephone calls,” he teased jokingly.

“Didn’t you tell me that was the first song you ever wrote on your own?” She pondered.

Chris’ face was suddenly humble with his eyes turning downward and nodding again. A rare moment of giddiness swept through Anya as she pulled him forward for another embrace. “I’m so honored, darling,” she exclaimed as her hand trailed from the back of his hair down his neck and landed on his shoulder. She heard him sigh as his arms tightened around her. Their faces were still smiling when Anya eventually pulled away and sat back on the floor in front of him. “Don’t let Reine find this out or she’ll have my head,” she cracked humorously as she grabbed her tea again.

Chris creased his brow puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I know the girls were on your last tour and you’re clearly her favorite,” Anya noted casually. She actually didn’t know if Reine was with the band on the road, but she noticed David leave their tour jet with Christine and just figured it was business as usual while the guys were out of town. Anya liked Chris an awful lot and was very attracted to him, and the fact that they had become so committed in such a short amount of time proved a lot. But she wasn’t naïve and knew what she was getting into. Chris was wonderful, but still a music star. She really should have continued going on dates while the Byrds were away, yet she found herself enjoying talking to Chris so much she hadn’t bothered chatting up guys locally since early summer.

There was a silent moment with Chris obviously not expecting the accusation. He cleared his throat. “Uh, Anya…I didn’t do any of that over summer…”

She gave him an unconvinced smirk until she realized the straight expression on his face was genuine. “I was much more interested in hearing your voice at the end of the day,” he contended calmly as her coy grin vanished. Feeling a sense of gratification and love overcome her, Anya didn’t reply verbally and instead placed her tea cup back on the table before pulling him into a passionate kiss. He responded on instinct with their lips quickly parting and Anya leaning back down onto the rug while still holding him. They carefully landed on the soft floor with the bassist laying aside with his upper half over her. Anya’s hands moved from the crook of his neck to under his shirt to feel his skin. Chris’ right hand traveled down from her shoulder, to her side and on to her hip. His mouth left hers for her neck when she moaned in approval…


	5. All Around Her

Ch. 5: All Around Her

Monterey, June 1967

If 1966 was a pleasant surprise, 1967 began as a happy breakthrough. New Year’s found Anya with a surprise bonus from Atlantic and by Valentine’s Day she and Gail decided to move out of their apartment. The latter settled into Frank’s house not long before the former made the jump into Chris’ place full time. As for the Byrds, the hit band finally had their most successful and innovative album since ‘Mr. Tambourine Man’ two years earlier: ‘Younger Than Yesterday.’ After struggling nearly a year to find a record producer who could mesh with them creatively, the young men discovered the answer in Gary Usher. He didn’t have the hit-making rep of Terry Melcher, but he had plenty of experience and was open to experimenting with sounds and genres. This was appreciated most by Jim and Chris, while Michael just seemed to go with the flow on studio decisions and David the biggest poo-poo-er in the group. In fact since meeting all the band members last June, Anya found she got along the least with the LA native. Michael was fine, and she enjoyed talking with Jim on occasion, but David was just irritable. When he was in a good mood, he would be his usual sarcastic jokester. But when he was upset, he was bombastic and even insulting. It had gotten to the point by the end of spring where she was going out of her way to not mingle around him. And not only because she noticed tension had grown bigger between all of the bandmates.

Quality wise, Anya found ‘Younger Than Yesterday’ an appropriate and more than worthy follow-up to their LP, ‘Fifth Dimension.’ The general public didn’t seem to favor the previous record, as it got mixed reviews from critics and cost them the teenybopper demographic. But she knew the guys had been secretly hoping for the latter anyway. The new album was the perfect blend of the pop-folk sound and psychedelic influence. With Chris’ found interest in country tunes and David’s own compositions rocking a little harder lately, accompanied by the group’s harmonies and Jim’s signature jangly Rickenbacker. Of course, there were still plenty of naysayers to complain the guys’ cover of Dylan’s ‘My Back Pages’ was redundant.

To ring out the end of their current late spring/early summer tour to promote the new LP, the band were signed up as one of the many hot acts on the highly anticipated Monterey Pop Music Festival. Anya was initially surprised the guys were even offered the chance to play by festival organizers Lou Adler and John Phillips. Everyone in Hollywood knew the reason Mama Michelle Phillips was unexpectedly kicked out of her own pop group for a month last year was because of an affair with former Byrd Gene Clark. But it probably helped that the Byrds’ publicist, Derek Taylor, was partly financing the weekend long event. While the band’s original songs weren’t hitting the charts as high as their trademark Bob Dylan and Pete Seeger covers, singles like ‘So You Wanna be a Rock ‘n’ Roll Star’ and ‘Mr. Spaceman’ kept them popular with the cool, younger crowds. The Summer of Love was looking to certify the relevancy of the hippie phenomenon all over the western world, and Monterey Pop was the perfect event to celebrate it. Even better, Anya knew the SoCal band was perfect for the fest line-up as they were already ahead of the curve with bohemian interests like psychedelia, recreational drugs, alternative hair styles, Indian music and social commentary through lyrics. 

But in reality, most music fans were looking forward more to the newer rock acts like the Jimi Hendrix Experience, Big Brother & the Holding Co., Jefferson Airplane, Buffalo Springfield and the Grateful Dead. Anya’s old buddies in the Who were also having the event be their big American debut, as they were still trying to breakthrough internationally beyond ‘My Generation’ being a hit. She was naturally happy for the Byrds’ current success and knew Monterey would be a big deal for them as well, but the English woman was inwardly also very excited to see Kit and his mod clients for the first time in almost two years.

For the hugely hyped happening, Anya scheduled to take the Thursday and Friday of the week off, as well as the Monday following so she could spend the whole visit with Chris, his bandmates and their usual road crew. Even though the musician and the label employee were a couple now, Anya still chose to stay home for his touring. Partly to still dodge any possibilities of being considered a groupie, and also because she really did enjoy her job and wanted to keep it full time. So if Chris really was honest with claiming she was the only girl in his life, then there shouldn’t be anything to worry about. Especially since the Byrds played the west coast more than any other region and would sometimes spend a whole week headlining California venues. This made it easy for Anya to end the day stopping by one of their shows in support, which Chris always appreciated. He seemed even happier when she revealed she was going to Monterey with them. Anya wasn’t the only significant other involved with a band member tagging along either. Jim’s wife and mother of his two sons, Dolores, was his plus-one; while Christine and David had gotten serious in the past year with the former groupie upgrading to live-in girlfriend and his date for the visit. Anya thought she heard Michael might be having a thing going with actress Deborah Walley, but it must have been just a rumor or short-lived, because the drummer came alone. She figured maybe he was hoping to get lucky while up north.

When the Byrds and company arrived upstate that mid-June weekend, Chris and Anya spent the first day playing tourist and just taking in the atmosphere and environment of the city. This naturally included enjoying the first day’s show sets of Lou Rawls, Johnny Rivers, the Animals and Simon & Garfunkel, plus doing their share of socializing with the other attendees they might know or were familiar with. David himself hadn’t made it a secret how he had struck up recent friendships with Stephen Stills and Neil Young of Buffalo Springfield and Peter Tork of the Monkees, with Steve and Peter at the festival. The outside comradery was part of the ever-growing tension in the Byrds’ circle, and the fact that David was practically boasting about his new, equally talented friends no doubt wasn’t helping. 

Saturday was the big day (or more night) for the guys and Anya wanted to look extra nice by buying a new dress just for the occasion. The item was black velvet, knee length, with long sleeves and laces which crisscrossed over her chest. Her shoes were a dark brown pair of feminine loafers with two-inch heels, and she chose to not include any jewelry. For make-up she had a dark red lipstick, mascara, only the faintest touch of blush on her cheekbones and a winged eyeliner sans any eye shadow. Inspired to embrace her inner hippie since the flower power craze took over the states, Anya's hair was now longer than ever before and reaching half an inch below her breasts. She left it down naturally after brushing it for her current ensemble. 

If she looked a little different than usual, then the Byrds were barely recognizable compared to when she first met them twelve months ago. Out were the moptops and strait-laced suits and in were the paisleys and wild hair. Chris was clean-shaven again, but completely gave up straightening his hair and now had short, almost afro style curls. Jim grew a goatee and was wearing sunglasses less these days, while David and Michael both sported mustaches. The guys were still hip, but on a groovier level now. When Anya stepped out of the hotel bathroom after capping her lipstick, she heard a pleasant chuckle and found Chris waiting next to the couch. He donned an attire of jeans, white turtleneck top and a suede jacket with a furry collar. 

“You’re way too classy for this crowd, Aun,” he complimented with a smile referring to the young women attendees only bothering to wear some denim shorts and T-shirts or flowy sundresses. Anya brought plenty of those for the trip too, just not for the big performance tonight.

“Nonsense. I saw Nico and Brian Jones arrive yesterday as stylish as ever,” she pointed out. “And you know Michelle likes to dress up,” she added while leaning up to kiss his chin and not bothering to wipe off the slight lipstick stain. “I want to make the best impression for all of you,” she concluded wrapping her arms around his waist. Chris pulled her closer with his right arm and rubbed up her arm before letting go with a peck on her temple. 

“You ready to head out?” He asked contently.

She nodded, but then instantly halted his movement. “Wait, hold it,” she requested before he could walk away and grabbed a tissue from the table next to the couch. She wiped his chin a couple of times. “There we go,” she said airily then moved to the kitchen to throw away the used tissue. Once she grabbed her purse, the cool looking couple left the hotel arm-in-arm.

The two enjoyed the first half of the day similar to yesterday, with mingling, roaming the festival grounds and viewing concerts put on by Canned Heat, Steve Miller Band, Quicksilver Messenger Service and Electric Flag. In between sets, Chris and Anya even found time for lunch at a nice diner across the street, before bumping into David, Christine and their fashion designer friend Genie Franklyn back at the festival. The Byrds were scheduled to appear in between Moby Grape and Laura Nyro for the after-dark shows, so Anya spent most of the night backstage around Dolores and Christine while Chris was preoccupied with the band. Anya enjoyed the jazzy and psychedelic sounds of the NorCal band playing on stage from the wings. But when she would catch glimpses of the Byrds as they were warming up, something kept feeling vaguely off. She took a drag of her presently lit cigarette as she noticed Jim and Chris whisper to each other while David schmoozed with one of the regular roadies. It didn’t escape her that it was specifically David who the others were subtly not bothering to speak with.

“Something wrong?” 

Anya suddenly heard Christine’s usual chipper voice next to her in between bites of a stick of cotton candy the dirty blonde was partaking.

“Not sure…is it me or has there been a bad vibe since we came backstage?” She asked while turning her head away from the guys to look at the fellow woman.

Christine shrugged with half a glance at the men in question. “I guess, but the boys always have bad vibes when they’re together,” she said carelessly before biting some more cotton candy.

Anya found her frank response interesting, since she knew the band weren’t exactly close friends. But she wouldn’t claim they had negative energy. Or at least she wouldn’t out loud. 

“That’s true…” She started again with another drag. “They’re usually better at hiding it in front of others though.”

“Well, to tell you the truth,” Christine paused to grab a cup of water she had sitting on a shelf across from them. “I think the other guys are a bit jealous of how many famous friends Dave’s made since the band found success.”

The theory amused Anya. Chris had his share of lowkey musician friends, but he didn’t ever appear to care about the limelight. 

“You know that’s why Gene was kicked out of the group,” Christine continued nonchalantly, but also intentionally, then took a sip from her cup.

Anya’s brow creased. “No, he quit. I mean, that’s what everyone says, anyway,” she clarified since she met the band four months after Gene left.

“Mmm, that’s not how Dave makes it sound,” the former groupie suggested before throwing away her now used paper stick in a trash can opposite them.

Anya wasn’t sure what Christine was trying to imply with her comments. “So…what are you saying? David’s leaving the band soon?”

“I didn’t say that,” the blonde suddenly stated while raising her hand in defense and cautiously tucking her hair behind her ear after a moment. Anya arched an eyebrow before looking back on stage as Skip Spence went into an impressive drum break. “But…it would maybe make sense…with Dave filling in for Neil during the Springfield’s set tomorrow…huh?”

Anya didn’t react to the rhetorical question besides glimpsing to Christine. This was the first she was even hearing about David playing with the hottest new folk-rock band in town. Since Chris was generally pretty open sharing band drama with her, she was now contemplating if anyone else in the Byrds was aware of this special appearance. And if they weren’t, then she wondered what else might be causing tension between the bandmates right now. Her hand instinctively rose to her mouth for one of the last drags left on the evaporating cigarette while she pondered the new information.

“You know, secondhand smoke can cause cancer,” Christine suddenly declared with criticism. 

Anya forced herself not to roll her eyes at the slide, knowing the LA local was likely smoking just as many joints as her boyfriend. For the first time in a while, the brunette was missing her old friend Gail and her brand of bubbly groupie. She dropped her last bit of cigarette on the floor and stepped on it to put out the remaining smoke. When Anya’s eyes just happened to land on Chris across the room, she saw him taking a break from tuning his bass to take a swig of a beer and used the moment as a way to end the conversation. “Excuse me,” she said simply without bothering to wait for a reply from Christine.

Chris perked up when he spotted his girlfriend walking toward him. “Hey,” he greeted as their arms naturally found each other after he placed the bottle back down on a coffeetable in front of the backstage couch.

“Everything alright?” She asked as her hand settled on his waist, while he placed his own on her shoulder.

“Should be,” he responded. “Why do you ask?” He sounded a little curious as if there was nothing to worry about.

Anya thought about mentioning Christine’s comments regarding David, but chose to not possibly jinx the performances with more awkwardness. “Nothing,” she muttered as she leaned into his embrace and placed her head on his body with a small sigh. “You missed a good show,” she switched the topic to the current Moby Grape set that was about to end. Chris’ only reply was giving her an extra squeeze and then tilting her head up for a kiss. She reciprocated it, using the motion as a sort of good luck memento and attempt to keep him calm before he stepped out into the large audience. She smiled into the kiss and raised a hand to his upper arm.

“Chris, save that for later, we gotta get out there.”

Anya abruptly separated from Chris’ mouth and found Michael walking by them onto stage left. She could somewhat see the presenter of their set, guitar virtuoso Mike Bloomfield, already on stage making his intro. Anya leaned up to kiss the side of Chris’ mouth one last time. “Go be brilliant,” she wished before squeezing his middle. He gave an equal squeeze back with a soft smile before stepping aside to grab his bass. Anya followed him to the wings, but stopped next to Dolores once she was right before the edge of the stage and found Christine on the opposite side of the wings for the performance. The heiress looked back to Dolores, who gave her a reassuring grin, appearing less cautious about the night than she currently was. 

“—It’s beautiful, it’s the Byrds!” 

Cheers were heard from the festival attendees as Mike ended his introduction and stepped off the stage for the band. The guys walked closer into view as Jim went into the opening riff of the song ‘Renaissance Fair’ from ‘Younger Than Yesterday’ on his guitar, with the others closely following along. Anya’s always found their vocals sound better in the studio than live, but all things considered they made it through the first song fine. The lyrics and atmosphere of the track were naturally fitting for the three-day weekend. But her concerns were semi-confirmed when David stepped up to his mic and made one of his usual irreverent statements.

“I’d like to tell you all something…I don’t know if any of you have seen—a lot of you probably have—Life Magazine this week…in it there is a statement…”

Anya sighed and closed her eyes as the songwriter went on to quote Paul McCartney saying recreational drugs might be able to create peace followed by the fans clapping in response. When she opened her eyes, she found David had taken a step back, with Chris and Jim seemingly ready to move on with the show. After only a couple of seconds, the band went into their current single, ‘Have You Seen Her Face,’ which was another new song from the recent album and one of Chris’ compositions. As one of the catchiest songs on the new LP with its McCartney-esque melody, it was also one of Anya’s favorites—and not just because she was involved with the man who wrote it. The lyrics were about a special girl who could capture the attention of anyone she sees, and the English lady liked to think it was in reference to herself since Chris wrote the song after they met. Like with ‘Renaissance Fair,’ ‘Her Face’ sounded better on record, but was still decent on the spot. The crowd cheered even louder when the song ended, and David once again stepped up to the mic.

“Your mother gets high and you don’t know it!”

Anya snorted at the exclamation and even Dolores didn’t look too amused this time. Christine, from what Anya could see on the far end of the stage, just laughed at her beau’s foolish remark. The rhythm guitarist then made a quick dedication to the rock acts Love, the Leaves and Jimi Hendrix before going into their rendition of ‘Hey Joe’—a song all three had previously covered to success. Anya never really understood why the Byrds wanted to record or perform this song though. None of the bandmates were bluesmen or garage rockers and having David on lead vocals made even less sense. Not to mention Jimi himself was playing tomorrow night and his effort was no doubt going to be superior. Jim either secretly agreed or already wasn’t feeling the mood of their concert, because he rushed through his guitar solo just to get the song over with.

“You know they’re shooting this for television,” David informed the audience of the three different sets of cameras which had been capturing the festival events the whole time. “I’m sure they’ll edit this out. Or I’m sure they’ll edit Country Joe & the Fish on some things…I wanna say it anyway even though they will edit it out.”

Anya stood still cautiously.

“When President Kennedy was killed…he was not killed by one man. He was shot in a number of different directions by different guns. The story has been suppressed. Witnesses have been killed. And this is your country, ladies and gentlemen.”

She grimaced and groaned. Rather than close her eyes in secondhand embarrassment again, Anya glanced at Jim’s and Chris’ reactions, who were now obviously more bothered than usual with their bandmate’s antics. Being politically aware was one thing, especially in the folk music scene where the Byrds originated. But spewing conspiracy theories? That was just asking for judgment and backlash. Anya looked at the fans to see how they were taking the random declaration. Some were confused and unsure of how to respond to their fave’s ridiculousness, while others were seemingly too high to really be fully conscious of what just happened. She briefly turned around to search if anyone from the Byrds’ crew backstage was as uncomfortable as she was and found their publicist, Derek Taylor, with his arms crossed tightly over his front, though trying to keep his cool. Jim went into the chords of the traditional folk tune, ‘He Was a Friend of Mine,’ and the tension was here to stay for the rest of the gig. 

Despite David and Jim sharing a mic for harmony, the lead guitarist kept his eyes on his instrument or toward Michael during David’s new song ‘Lady Friend.’ Anya could have sworn she even saw Jim check his watch at the end of the song. By this point Chris didn’t bother to hide his disinterest in sharing the stage with the fifth body filming the show, and Michael looked like his mind was elsewhere too. Then was the sole Bob Dylan cover of the night with ‘Chimes of Freedom’ featuring Jim and Michael attempting to cut off David’s interlude comments with some impromptu jamming. Anya couldn’t tell if she was projecting her current emotions or if Jim really was relieved to finally have a chance to be on lead vocals instead of David. The show ended with the first and biggest single released from ‘Younger Than Yesterday,’ ‘So You Wanna be a Rock & Roll Star.’ Most people saw the tongue-in-cheek lyrics as satire on fan crazes like Beatlemania and Monkeemania, but Chris claimed to Anya in private that he and Jim were sick of how shallow and disposable pop bands were treated in both the record industry and the media. Rather than savoring the moment and enjoying playing their hit song, the band just went through the motions musically even with special guest Hugh Masekela on stage playing his trumpet just like on the original recording. 

“You’re all great! Good night everyone!” 

The band split once David made their farewell, with the polarizing musician leaving to the right with Hugh, while Jim, Chris and Michael exited from the left side of the stage. Dolores instantly greeted her husband with a kiss on the cheek before he grabbed her hand and led her over to Derek with him. Anya gave her own quick kiss to Chris before the bassist moved over to place the instrument back in its case in a huff, understandably upset over how the concert went. She followed cautiously in silence as he frustratedly snapped the case shut and then straightened his posture with a loud breath through his nose. She stopped in front of him right as he closed his eyes to compose himself with his hands on his hips. Anya took a look around the current surroundings and found Jim and Derek speaking with one of the cameramen, figuring they were negotiating how to edit out David’s comments. The troublemaker himself had now made it to their side of backstage along with Christine. Anya looked back into the audience, seeing they had already moved on from the arbitrary performance and were ready to watch Laura Nyro’s act.

“Well…” She carefully began as she turned back to Chris and found him with an apathetic expression on his face. “For once you can be relieved the crowd is sedated,” she tried with a weak grin. The attempt barely made a difference, with Chris instead mumbling something about a “fucking asshole” before storming into the backroom which doubled as a dressing room and bathroom. Anya gave her boyfriend some clearly needed space and turned to see who she could hang with in the meantime. She found their road manager, Jimmi Seiter, sharing a joint with Michael, and made her way over to them. But en route she bumped into the exact opposite person she was hoping to find.

“Excuse me, Ms. Anya,” David said in his usually chipper tone that could read as either playful or condescending.

“Hello,” she said flatly and wanting to move past him, but he kept in front of her and spoke again.

“You know, Anya, a lot of girls like me—”

“Yes, and I have never been able to figure out why,” she tossed abruptly and crossed her arms to show she didn’t want to chat.

“I don’t know why you act so hoity-toity around me. Chris wasn’t a saint before we met you either,” he accused off-handedly.

The reminder didn’t break her hold and she just continued with a straight face: “I suppose I don’t dwell on the past.”

“Yeah, I guess not…” He lingered. “You’d probably have to do that to be interested in a married man, huh?”

That was enough for Anya to immediately end the discussion and physically push past him. She wasn’t about to ask how he knew her past connection to Brian. She took two steps before she heard his voice again. 

“Lots of bands in LA,” he called out. “Unfortunate you latched on to the first two you saw with so much baggage.”

She turned halfway around to face him one more time. “No, David. The only thing unfortunate is now that Gene is gone, you’ve been promoted to the best songwriter of the Byrds.” Anya ended the backhanded compliment with a sarcastic grin and carried on walking. She loved Chris’ new songs, but he still had a way to go to make a fair comparison to David. Jim’s tracks on the records were good, but he was at his best as an arranger than with lyrics. Luckily, Chris entered the scene again before Anya could make a half-efforted attempt to mingle with Michael or anyone else backstage.

“Are you interested in Laura’s set?” She asked when they met halfway to each other.

He shrugged lazily. “Not really, to be honest—”

“Good, because I think it would be wise to start the nightcap early this evening,” she revealed and placed her hand on his hip to direct him out of the stage area. Chris waved to Jim and Derek as they walked to signal they were leaving the festival. While exiting she noticed Christine jump into David’s arms gleefully.

Back in their hotel room, Anya was hoping to make up for the less than amazing night intimately in bed. But Chris was still so bummed out from his fellow musician sabotaging their concert, he suggested they just go to sleep after a quick drink. Anya was fine with the decision, but still felt disappointed she couldn’t properly cheer him up, even if it was always nice to fall asleep in each other’s arms.


	6. Strange Land

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, I didn't know until after I wrote this chapter Chris apparently did watch Otis Redding's performance the same night as the Byrds' show. Oops, lol. I've also found a few more photos featuring Anya at MP since writing this fic, and I think I might have made up her having long hair around that time too, heh.

Ch. 6: Strange Land

Monterey, June 1967

The couple took their time enjoying the morning of the final day of the weekend event by themselves around the hotel before making their way to the festival grounds. This time Anya decided to dress a bit more casual and cuter, with a dark pink mini-dress and a light pink cashmere sweater plus a third pink item of a big ribbon wrapped around her long, low ponytail. Feeling already feminine enough with the pink, she chose just a rose lipstick and mascara for make-up with white sandals. Chris was pretty much in the same type of outfit as yesterday, but his white turtleneck was replaced with a blue buttoned-up shirt. It wasn’t until they bumped into Peter Tork and Tiger Beat’s Ann Moses after Big Bro & the Holding Co.’s groundbreaking performance that Anya remembered David was supposedly making an on-stage appearance for the Buffalo Springfield set. 

The secretary and the music artist leisurely went to the balcony seating and discovered they were about to sit next to the McGuinn couple. Anya appreciated the chance encounter as she had gotten along with Dolores about as much as Jim during their brief meetings, and Chris appeared fine with it too. Jim’s attire was similar to Chris, only with a navy blue jacket and more denim underneath. Dolores wore an ankle-length, long-sleeved purple dress with her familiar long black hair and bangs. There was still ten minutes until Springfield were supposed to take the stage, so Mrs. McGuinn was currently using one of the public phones to check in with their usual sitter watching the kids. Chris chose the free moment to get something from the snack bar, and Anya took the opportunity to have a light chat with the Byrds frontman.

“Good afternoon, Jim,” she greeted pleasantly while taking the seat to his right and faced him. 

“Hey, Anya,” he replied coolly with a nod, though it seemed a little more forced than usual. She decided to bite the bullet and just acknowledge the elephant in the room. Or more festival arena.

“Trouble in paradise?”

He glanced at her for a calm second. “Oh, no. Dolores is always pretty groovy,” he replied in jest.

Anya responded with a pointed look and a sideways smile to suggest she knew he knew what she was implying. This time he took the bait while viewing the growing audience beyond them. “Nothing out of the ordinary from our usual gigs,” he claimed nonchalantly with his arms crossed. “Only this time it was caught on film,” he added blasely.

“Do you think he wants to leave the band?” She was suddenly feeling honest.

“Who knows,” Jim said plainly. “I’ve always felt he just likes to run his mouth off more than anything else. It’ll backfire against him eventually,” he concluded.

Anya bit the side of her lip before taking the plunge. “Jim…”

He looked back to her and waited for her to continue.

She took a couple more seconds before trying again. “…I heard a rumor last night…from Christine…”

Jim barely reacted facially to her suggestion and just let out a breath. “Well, if things go from bad to worse,” he started. “I’m sure Clarence would appreciate some more work,” he theorized referencing session guitarist Clarence White, who played on two of Chris’ songs with the new album, and Jim had become fond of as a musician himself.

Anya gave him a soft smile and patted his shoulder supportively before situating herself back in her seat to face the stage. Only half a minute later, Chris took the right unoccupied seat next to her and offered some Cracker Jacks he was eating. She shook her head with an appreciative smile and instead grabbed a paper cup of punch she had been drinking since they arrived for the next show. Dolores made it back to her seat on Jim’s left right as Peter took the stage to introduce what he referred to as ‘his favorite group.’ The popstar cheered along with the crowd when he stepped aside for Buffalo Springfield to be front and center. The two Byrd couples clapped along with the rest of the fans neutrally until guitarist Stephen Stills and drummer Dewey Martin went into the opening notes of the band’s mega hit ‘For What It’s Worth.’ After only 30 seconds it became very obvious lead guitarist Neil Young was absent from the stage and the rhythm guitarist next to fellow rhythm player Richie Furay was David. Doug Hastings was also a part of the live show on lead guitar to make up for the lack of Neil. 

Anya would occasionally try to take subtle glances at either Chris or Jim to see their reactions and feelings of their bandmate performing with competition. The two bands really weren’t rivals, but the sudden surge in electric based music for the past six months had shown that it was possibly to rock while still having folk sensibilities, hence even Dylan going electric. No one was doing this blend better than Springfield, particularly because of the combination of Steve’s lyrics with Neil’s riffs. While the Byrds weren’t uncool by any means, they weren’t exactly the hippest group in town anymore either. Anya couldn’t even pretend David was out of place or unnecessary to the Springfield’s show; since he was the best harmonizer in the Byrds and fit right in in between Steve’s and Richie’s vocals. She found Chris with his usual poker face for uncomfortable or chaotic situations, but Jim actually did appear a little peeved with the current presentation. 

She took hold of Chris’ hand, squeezed it sympathetically and hoped this would be the extent of the awkward tension for the late afternoon/early night. By the time the rock group were jamming to another fan favorite, ‘Bluebird,’ the crowd was feeling good with the make-do line-up, though Anya had to wonder how much that was drug influenced. Marijuana and LSD had both blown up recreationally since Anya moved to the states, and it was simultaneously interesting and unnerving to see who in her life favored them and who reacted negatively to the substances. Gail had her share of fun with herbs and psychedelics, but the experiences for the most part hadn’t affected her personality. Brian, well...she never got a direct confirmation on her concern, but she had a strong feeling his change in mood and strange decisions weren’t only because of ‘Pet Sounds’ underperforming on the charts. David was definitely a supporter of chemical experimentation, making it impressive he could still play and make new music with no problem. While Roger’s fascination with acid was most shocking as he was the most professional member and the only Byrd with kids. Michael was apparently content to stick with booze and Anya was relieved Chris was fine with a joint and a beer. She found most potheads dull rather quickly, but fortunately Chris wasn’t that dependent on the drug and could still enjoy life sober for periods of time. Plus who was she to criticize smoking weed when she was a regular user with cigarettes? 

Anya felt Chris take a deep breath as his shoulder moved against hers, she assumed in frustration. She squeezed his hand again and rubbed the back of it with her thumb gently before placing their connected fingers back on her thigh as her eyes went to the concert again. The band was winding down with an encore of the song ‘Pretty Girl Why’ with Jim now hardly bothering to pay attention. She soon felt Chris squeeze her hand, which got her heart to flutter on instinct. The crowd suddenly cheered enthusiastically when the music stopped. Steve and Richie told the fans goodnight before the whole band rushed off backstage while waving. 

The young woman exhaled a breath she didn’t realize she was holding in and finally relaxed. She rested her head on the top of her seat and gazed up at Chris to see if he was still internally stewing. When he appeared more in thought than upset, Anya sat up again, pressed her lips together to make sure most of her lipstick was currently faded and leaned forward to softly kiss along his jawline. She felt him smile by the time she reached below his ear, which made herself smile as she set her chin on his shoulder. “What are you thinking?”

“Eh…” She heard escape his mouth for the first time since the music started. “I sort of wish we had stuck around for Otis last night,” he randomly revealed referring to the Otis Redding show that was apparently a smash hit and ended the festival schedule for yesterday. 

Anya raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Oh, yes…that would have been fun,” she agreed as she remembered the rest of the festival outside of the Byrds’ circle really had been an enjoyable good time. “I heard Jefferson Airplane were a trip too.”

Chris nodded seemingly content and let go of her hand to wrap his arm around her shoulder. She lifted her chin from his body to make the new position more comfortable. “We’ll see it on television in a few weeks,” she predicted calmly. “Donn told me they’ve already shot enough footage to make a whole feature film,” she revealed in reference to documentarian DA Pennebaker, who was directing the cameras this weekend. Chris gave a single nod while kneading the top of her arm a couple of times comfortably. At least he wasn’t dwelling on the issue with David presently. Which was good because the sun had set and they needed to go backstage soon to meet up with the Who, whom Anya was still very much looking forward to.

The former band secretary practically dragged her boyfriend through the backdoor of the stage in excitement. Not only to see her old friends and colleagues, but also to show off a little how well things had been going for her across the pond. When she entered the now familiar resting area, she found a few new faces on the mod rock band’s road crew and even more ladies than what she remembered back in England. But she recognized Kit immediately and waved when his eyes caught her presence across the room.

“Anya, luv!” He greeted happily and quickly made his way over to her.

“Hello, Kit,” Anya returned with a big smile and a bigger hug when she let go of Chris’ hand to embrace her former boss as they met mid-room. 

“My God, your hair,” he exclaimed glancing around her back to marvel at her long ponytail which replaced her previous shoulder length cut. “It really has been 18 months,” he pondered.

“Yes, it has. And I didn’t waste any time since moving,” she announced proudly.

“Ah yes, I’m glad to hear the job worked out with Atlantic,” he remembered pleasantly.

She exhaled peacefully and turned to grab Chris’ hand again. “It did. And I subsequently discovered my other half as well…” Anya gazed up at Chris with a warm smile, genuinely giddy for the first time in she couldn’t even remember how long. She made it so far since leaving home and felt so naturally happy. This was probably going to be the closest thing Chris got to meeting her family, per se. The star appeared to even be enjoying the little reunion himself and held an easy grin seemingly glad his girlfriend was having such a good time reconnecting. He offered his hand to shake Kit’s, who was clearly impressed his old secretary’s love life was as successful as her career. 

The band themselves were equally surprised and happy to see their old friend, and greeted her with enthusiastic hugs and quick reminisces. The young Englishmen’s hair were still semi-similar to what she remembered when she last worked for Kit. But their primary color based mod wardrobes were now replaced with more rainbow patterned clothes to fit in with the new hippie trends. Their wild and sardonic personas rock fans loved were still present though and made Anya feel a little nostalgic for the early days of the band’s fame. Soon she discovered one of the young women a part of the band’s entourage was Pete’s new fiancée Karen Astley, making Anya’s luck even better with the possibility of there being any awkward tension between her and Pete now null. The former lovers stepped aside to personally congratulate each other on their lives since their brief fling before returning to the rest of the group with Anya feeling satisfaction again.

By the time the four male Brits had to take the stage, Anya and Chris lingered by the wings for the infamously raucous live act. Chris gradually kept his hand on her waist while hers was around his side. The latter was now reminded just how loud the hard rock group could get their volume, especially compared to a band so inoffensive as the Byrds. But in terms of performance, the guys were twice as good as she recalled from their first two tours, now coming off as complete pros and naturals in their element. She liked how their set list included both new songs and their hits, plus the very appropriate cover of Eddie Cochran’s ‘Summertime Blues.’ When the foursome got into gear to end the show with their signature tune, ‘My Generation,’ things speedily took a turn in mood. The fans had appeared to be generally enjoying the rocking and rolling, but instantly switched to caution during the last song. The Who were practically the rock music equivalent of the ‘angry young man’ trope in British entertainment, representing the repressed and reckless youths throughout Britain. But on the west coast, most young hippies probably couldn’t relate. Especially with the over the top musical metaphor in front of them. Even Chris seemed to tense up when Anya felt his hand tighten around her once Pete and Keith Moon started smashing their instruments. Viewers looked nervous, venue staff freaked out as they tried to save the lights and sound equipment from the damage, Roger Daltrey flailed around waving his mic and cape. The show officially concluded when Keith kicked over his drums for one of his infamous cherry bombs to explode inside the set, with the group walking off once the stage was destroyed. Chris’ hand went from Anya’s hip to her shoulder to pull her closer as the Who rushed through the wings still amped up with adrenaline. Keith gave the couple an exanimated scream as he passed by, causing a surprised, yet still excited, shriek from Anya. 

“Well…just like old days,” she commented with a giggle which got a chuckle out of Chris as he made the most of a genre he typically didn’t jell with. She gave him a tight hug in bliss, now feeling fortunate things had turned around since earlier in the festival.

While Chris was too depressed the night before to be in the mood for love, tonight was a completely different story. The couple practically ravaged each other as soon as they made it inside their hotel room, yet also had trouble making it to the bed. Anya’s sweater and Chris’ jacket were hastily thrown against the couch while their shoes were abandoned next to the door. The brunette’s back was currently pressed against the wall with her legs wrapped around Chris’ waist and her mini-dress scrunched up to her hips; while the golden-haired musician’s hands traveled along her thighs, hips and sides for contact. His lips and teeth kissed, nibbled and sucked on as much exposed skin he could find on her chest and neck, with Anya’s breaths short and husky. She tossed her head back with a low groan as Chris’ mouth found that spot below her ear. Anya leaned over his shoulders to untuck his shirt from his jeans so she could feel the skin on his back. He kissed from her earlobe, to across her cheek to meet her lips in a passionate kiss before rapidly tightening his arms around her and dropping them on the bed a couple feet next to them. An unexpected squeal escaped her from the quick movement before she recovered, situated herself in the new position on the bed and lifted her hands to raise her dress from her body. Chris had the same idea as he rushed to unbutton his shirt with his body still in between her legs…

****

Seven hours later, the lovers lay blissfully naked in bed while the early morning sun shined through the hotel window blinds. Anya was on her side with her head propped up in her hand with the other lazily brushing along Chris’ chest. He was on his back with his eyes closed. It looked like he might still be asleep, until Anya suddenly asked lightly:

“Would you like to go down to the harbor after breakfast before we return to LA?”

He took a deep breath through his nose and turned his head toward her, showing he was awake, though kept his eyes closed. “Whatever you want,” he said with a comfortable smile while finally opening his eyes.

But she rolled hers in faux irritation. “You know I hate blasé answers like that. We’ll just end up spending our last moments of Monterey in the hotel if we don’t decide to do something,” as she sat up and ran a hand through his bedridden curls. 

“That could be fun too,” he flirted while his own hand crept back under the covers to slide from her hip up to her breast.

She swiped his hand away with a smirk. “No, I’m not going to possibly make you late for the bus ride back.”

“There could still be a chance of us showing up late to the bus if we went into town,” he teased and pulled her down on to his upper half with her smiling coyly as she let him. Anya sighed contently as he tucked some of her long hair behind her ear before lifting all of it over her shoulder.

“I was really just offering some more space away from the band if you needed it,” she revealed with her smile turning softer. 

Chris smiled appreciatively and gingerly placed his hand on her cheek to pull her into a sweet kiss. For the next few minutes, the couple just enjoyed each other’s company with Anya’s chin resting on his chest and Chris’ arm around her. The silence was broken when the label employee suddenly remembered something somewhat important that had slipped her mind in the midst of everything going on with the music fest. Anya lifted her head and kissed the side of his mouth. “Happy anniversary.”

He creased his brow in amused confusion. 

“It’s June and we met exactly a year ago last June,” she informed before sitting up from his body. 

Chris processed her comment for a few seconds before a grin formed. “Oh, yeah. That’s right. It was before a show then too.”

She nodded. “Mm-hm. I think I’m a week early, but better than the alternative,” she concluded with another kiss properly on his mouth. It lingered enough for both of them to capture each other’s lips before Anya separated. “Let’s have another spectacular summer.”


	7. Bound to Fall

Ch. 7: Bound to Fall

Hollywood, September 1967

Anya might have bet money that by the time the Byrds were back home from the fiasco in Monterey, the guys would have given their rhythm guitarist the boot. But to her shock, he stuck around and was ready to record the band’s next LP with everyone else on board. While she still wasn’t sure exactly what David’s motives were at the moment, she could actually see (or hear) why the rest of the group were reluctant to let him go. It probably annoyed Chris and Jim that while David’s personality was getting worse, his music was getting better. Which is why it perplexed the Brit how the latest, catchy Byrds single written by the songwriter, ‘Lady Friend,’ was struggling to rise on the charts. David, being as tactful as ever, directly blamed Gary Usher for the song’s underperformance and called the production ‘mush’ during a solo radio interview. Anya on the other hand, was choosing to believe it was because there was just too much good music coming out in 1967. With the Beatles and the Monkees releasing multiple records alongside breakthrough albums from the likes of the Doors, Jefferson Airplane, Love and Pink Floyd, it was easy to get lost in the shuffle.

But the most surprising and unexpected incident to happen by the time summer ended wasn’t even David staying in the Byrds. But actually Jim going as far as to not only change his stage name to ‘Roger,’ but also legally add it as a new middle name. Inspired by eastern religious practices he had taken a fast interest in since the new counterculture took over, Jim was convinced by a spiritual advisor to change his name to something that started with an ‘R’ to “vibrate better with the universe.” Out of all the options given, ‘Roger’ ended up being the only one that was a common name in the western world. Dolores, ever the supportive wife, also practiced these new teachings with her husband and was now going by the more exotic ‘Ianthe.’ While most of Jim’s friends and colleagues seemed to get a handle on the sudden, new name change, Anya was a bit more stubborn.

“You can call yourself ‘Roger,’ or ‘Robert,’ or whatever you like, but I’m still calling you ‘Jim,’” she insisted while backstage at NBC Studios when the band was visiting for a quick TV performance on Johnny Carson’s show. 

“Alright. You can be the only person left in the world to call me ‘Jim’ then,’” he agreed with a smirk while sitting on the armrest of the lounge couch she was seated on. 

“Thank you,” Anya replied nonchalantly before going back to the magazine she was reading while the other band members were still in hair & make-up.

Fortunately for Chris and Anya, their relationship turned out to mostly make up for any of the awkward tension in the former’s musical life this past season. Another reason Anya was reluctant to tag along with the Byrds on tour was because she didn’t want her and Chris to feel burned out on each other too soon. Her instinct appeared to do the trick, because over a year after meeting, the worst it had come to between them was a light argument or an accidental awkward moment. The SoCal native even convinced the English woman to spend some time on the beach with him despite her usually making an effort to protect her fair, delicate skin from the sun. Of course she didn’t mind though, with the weather usually very nice and Chris always great company. Between running around label offices, radio stations, venues and record stores making sure Atlantic’s latest acts like the Rascals, Fairport Convention and Marsha Hunt were getting enough exposure; and spending nearly all of her free time with one of the better boyfriends she’s ever had, life could really be a lot worse for Anya. 

Autumn was looking to have potential as well, until one mid-September day when she stopped by Columbia’s recording studios after finishing work an hour early to meet up with Chris. Originally Anya was impressed with how the guys could get into session mode with all the recent drama. But that was quickly revealed to all be a façade for the sake of the music. After parking her Mustang in the studio’s parking structure, she headed up to the recording room where the band was working on a song—evidently a track which sounded like it might have been conceived from a jam session—that David felt the need to guide everyone on. Anya paused her route right outside the recording room door when she heard two male voices arguing rather intently. And to Anya’s surprise, it wasn’t the singer-songwriter who was instigating the debate, but instead the drummer, Michael. She leaned forward a little to try to hear what they might be so heated about.

“He always does the same thing—”

“So do you, man, and it’s really a drag.”

Even from the side, Anya could tell Chris and Jim were not only unhappy with the band currently, but David was too. So she couldn’t figure out why he would bother sticking around if he had so many other musicians as friends he could be playing with now. Unless he was trying to work two bands at once under wraps. Which would be ambitious, but also naïve to think there wouldn’t be any jealousy from the opposite bandmembers once they found out. And as for Michael, well. Not to stereotype, but she really didn’t get what any drummer would complain about with the least responsibility of the unit. His technique used to be novice, and he was clearly self-conscious over his lack of experience compared to the others. But he had really caught up to them on the past couple of records, and didn’t have much to worry about. Or so Anya thought.

“Rog, Dave and Chris: do you all agree that Mike should be playing a snare, a cymbal and a release in the thing?...Did you hear what I said?”

Admittedly, she was also impressed how Gary could successfully be patient with their diva-ish outbursts and still get the best production quality from their talent and composing.

“Hey…the fuck’s the matter with you? Mothafucka?”

“Fuck you, man!”

Anya’s eyebrows rose when she recognized Chris as the voice to use the derogatory slur. Especially since his tone was more goofy than upset, and he and Michael were generally the closest of the bandmates.

“I don’t give a fuck, I don’t even like what I’m playing.”

“Yeah, we’re well aware of that.”

Instantly the scuffle went from David vs. Michael to the three vocalists ganging up on the drummer. After a series of mocking and teasing, Gary—now sounding ticked off himself—tried to referee the four musicians back into focusing on the song at hand. When it seemed like the young men had finally put aside their arguing to play again, Anya stepped away and chose to find a concession near the building’s lounge to not possibly taint another take for the guys. She returned 10 minutes later holding a half empty cup of coffee and raised her free hand to open the door, but was abruptly met with it flying open. Michael barged into the hall, still vexed. She jumped back startled by the unexpected motion.

“Oh, sorry, Anya…” He mumbled apologetically while moping over to the elevator. Anya’s brow arched as she watched him leave before she entered the room. She found all four remaining men, plus a couple of engineers, scattered between the booth and behind the soundboard. Chris, Jim and David were still by the mics with their instruments, with the former two appearing relieved to find someone new in the room to distract from the current tension.

“Your most intuitive moment yet, Anya,” Jim witted to lighten the mood and noodled a little jingle on his guitar for accompaniment. 

“Yeah. Crazy Columbia hasn’t accused you of snooping for Atlantic with all these session visits,” David dryly sassed before walking beyond her.

Though they all seemed to be fine with the petite woman present, the group only lasted around 45 more minutes before deciding to call it a night. On the drive back to Chris’ house, Anya was behind the wheel of her car—since Chris showed up that day with Michael—and the bassist was slouched in the passenger seat in a rather lethargic state. The couple spent the ride in silence, with both preoccupied mentally, until about halfway there when Anya decided to speak.

“You guys sounded rather harsh with Michael today,” she commented, not bothering to hide the fact she could hear them through the door. Primarily because she had a big feeling this wouldn’t be the last argument the group might have around her.

“He ignites it,” was all he said drolly while playing with his cigarette lighter.

“Well…he wouldn’t be the first person in this band to do that,” she teased and gave him a brief look with a lopsided grin to show she wasn’t judging.

Chris just shrugged, clearly content to stay silent.

“I didn’t realize you and Michael argued as much as David and Jim,” Anya confessed, interested in keeping the topic alive.

“We didn’t until recently,” he replied simply.

“I thought it felt out of character,” she agreed while turning left to get into the lane that led to their neighborhood.

Chris took a breath while sitting up a bit straighter. “Mike’s a great guy, but if he keeps fucking around, we’ll have to call up Jim or Hal,” he suddenly announced referring to in-demand session drummers Jim Gordon and Hal Blaine. 

She chose to end the discussion right as they were only a minute or two away from the house.

****

Anya officially stopped being surprised by anything that occurred with the Byrds when only a week later it wasn’t David who suddenly quit the band, but Michael. And another a week later, Jim and Chris finally told David to get lost or find a new group to join. Which then lead to Michael returning for a little over a week before he was officially let go too. What was once a fivesome, was now down to a duo and a slew of studio musicians for the rest of the album in the same vein as a Beach Boys or Monkees record. Anya practically got whiplash from the inconsistency and incompetence. Getting rid of David was obvious, but why not do it before the recording sessions actually started? She could understand Michael suddenly feeling jilted and expendable even if that is generally the case with any band member who doesn’t contribute to writing or singing, unfortunately. But was it worth tainting his friendship with Chris?

Since the tension instantly ended once the songwriter and drummer were out of the picture, Anya found herself visiting the studio more often. She had to admit, the new make-do session band did sound pretty good with Hal and the other Jim in place of Michael, and Clarence and James Burton substituting David. It was still a challenge finding a reliable third songwriter though. So it was shocking, but very exciting, when Gene suddenly returned to the group. Anya was quite curious to finally see him in person after hearing so much about the enigmatic former band member. This ended up being during a session for a song called ‘Get to You,’ seemingly composed by Jim and Gene. Anya quickly found the wide-eyed, dark haired music artist rather charming—in an endearingly modest way—attractive and masculine, yet with a subtle mystique which lived up to his talented reputation. She could definitely see why Gene was the bandmate the fangirls originally gravitated to the most. She also discovered he was surprisingly quiet and almost shy, much like Chris, and just as friendly as her boyfriend. 

But almost as soon as Anya was happy to meet the newly reunited Byrd, she became disappointed when only a month and two songs later Gene was MIA yet again. Chris and Gary appeared as bummed as she was to see the musician leave, while Jim was actually indifferent to the second wave of absence. Anya got along with Gene better than she ever did with David, making it unfortunate she really only chatted with him at four recording sessions and a random TV appearance the guys made on the Smothers Brothers’ show. 

“So this really is his thing, isn’t it? Just dropping out whenever he feels like?” Anya asked Chris mostly rhetorically as she lit his fireplace one night during the first week of November. 

“Apparently,” he answered and leaned forward while sitting on the couch. “Acrophobia is no joke,” he added referring to Gene using fear of flying as his excuse for both times he quit the group. 

“Well, I’m sure there’s a pill for that just like practically everything else these days,” she considered lightly. “You would think Jim would be more upset over losing another songwriter so soon.” 

“Yeah…” Chris lingered as he rested his arms on his legs in contemplation.

Anya placed the metal poker on top of the fireplace once she was satisfied with logs. “You know, for all you vent about the groupie cat fights backstage, you lot sure do a fine job crafting your own gossip fodder,” she retorted cheekily until she turned around and saw he was distressed. When his head landed in his hands in defeat, she walked over to kneel in front of him. 

“Hey…” She started softly and placed a hand on his shoulder and the other on his knee. “It could very well be a lot worse,” she insisted while he dropped his hands and raised his face up to her. “You could be getting sued by your manager like the Turtles,” she considered and squeezed his shoulder. “Or feuding with your producer like the Monkees,” she continued and placed both hands on his neck as his face slowly morphed from concerned to appreciative with her comforting words. “You’re lucky none of these studio fights include any punches like with the Kinks and the Who,” she quipped playfully which got a genuine smile out of him. She smiled in return when he tucked a string of her long hair behind her ear before she pulled him into a warm hug. They held each other tightly with Anya occasionally running her hands through his curls and rubbing his back.

With the sporadic line-up changes now officially set to Chris, Jim and the studio musicians, Anya got the sense the guitarist and the bassist found a solid groove with the new in-the-moment arrangement. Chris was now arriving home at the end of the day (or even early morning sometimes) calmer and less tense since summer ended. Which was secretly a relief in Anya’s mind, because the band drama was starting to rub off on her and distract from her own projects too. She could also tell from Chris jamming in the house that he was rapidly getting the hang of writing his own material. The newer songs sounded just as good and even more mature than his tracks on ‘Younger Than Yesterday.’ The recently formed songwriter had coined a decent partnership with Jim on the fly as well and she couldn’t wait to hear the final results. 

David must have really been making the most of his friendships with Steve Stills and Neil Young too, because he didn’t sound nearly as bitter in news soundbites as Anya might have thought. Save for some criticism which she had to admit was understandable. The week David was asked to leave, the guys were working on a track of his that was rather…racy. The composer took it upon himself to call Jim and Chris prudes for not wanting to release a song with the subject of a ménage-à-trois (supposedly a real incident between David, Christine and Reine). She wasn’t surprised neither bandmate had any interest in the song, though that wasn’t to say it didn’t have potential. Only six months later, the piece—appropriately called ‘Triad’—wound up on Jefferson Airplane’s latest LP with the pronouns changed for Grace Slick and instantly became a fan favorite. Of course David didn’t mind since he was a casual friend of Grace and Paul Kantner. Anya could imagine it was also easier for rock fans to picture the frontwoman in that scenario rather than the polarizing songwriter. Despite all this and David’s claims, Anya knew Jim and Chris would have found another excuse for the harmonizer’s exit no matter what songs David had contributed; and that ‘Triad’ was just a scapegoat. But the real shock was that the two remaining Byrds chose not only to keep one of David’s songs—‘Draft Morning’—on the album, but also rewrite some of the lyrics. This was because they couldn’t remember half of the words with David gone and obviously weren’t about to call him and ask. Anya also found it rather petty how they chose to keep Michael on the record’s cover photo, while David was absent with the three other bandmates next to a horse (even if Chris insisted to her it was only coincidence). So…as much as Anya loved Chris and liked Jim, she really couldn’t call them victims in their own drama when it was pretty obvious everyone had a hand in it. For the first time, she could see where David was coming from being ticked off. 

Things began winding down by Thanksgiving, with only some overdubs left for the guys to finish the album—decidedly titled ‘The Notorious Byrd Brothers.’ Even with the mess of a production, Anya found it interesting the result would feature all five original Byrds in a roundabout way for the first time since spring 1966. And now that the rest of the holiday season was finally cleared up, she was planning for some more enjoyable at-home time with Chris like last year. 

“Shall I learn how to heat a turkey for Thursday?” She asked one late night as they were in bed cuddling.

“That sounds nice,” he agreed. “Or we can just stop by my mom’s place if you don’t want the pressure,” he offered as he felt her lips on his temple.

She sighed happily, instead of responding verbally. Anya had met Chris’ mother Betty twice since they started seeing each other. First was on the previous turkey day last holiday season and again on 4th of July, where she met Chris’ sisters, Susan and Cathy as well. She got along fine with the three ladies, but she could also sense some reluctance from the musician for her to socialize with his family, since her own relatives were halfway across the world. 

“I can always meet them in between gigs when you follow us on our next tour through England,” he had said sometime when she originally moved into his house. Anya didn’t respond thoroughly that time either, since she didn’t have the best relationship with her family…which may or may not be yet another reason she wasn’t in a hurry to tag along on tour…

“No, I want to try all sorts of American traditions while I’m living here,” she insisted back in bed and laid her head on his shoulder. She felt his body vibrate with a mild laugh. “Don’t think I’m letting you off the hook with this holiday dinner either. I don’t mind making the turkey and the potatoes, but you’ll have to come up with the gravy and stuffing whatever else is supposed to taste good,” she concluded with a grin as she looked at him again.

“Sounds reasonable enough,” he agreed while she rested on her elbow to face him.

“And I’d like to know which gift you would like for your birthday and which you would prefer on Christmas,” she continued committedly. 

Chris shrugged as he turned on his side for a better angle. “I don’t really have anything in mind.”

Anya rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on now.”

“What? I already have the perfect girlfriend,” he smirked and pulled her closer by the hip.

She placed her hand on his side to restrict anything more physical. “I appreciate the flattery,” she teased back.

“More truth than flattery,” he calmly insisted while rubbing her gently.

A lopsided smile formed on Anya’s face as he carried on dodging the topic. 

“Actually…” Chris started when something clearly popped into his mind. “You know what would sound perfect for the holidays…” He pulled her forward with his lips lightly brushing her mouth.

“What…?” She asked curiously, but also cautiously, as she let him touch her.

His lips lingered against hers for a long moment before he separated to say: “Getting married.”

Anya barely processed or reacted to the answer. “What?” She asked again with a chuckle as if he was messing with her. When he didn’t respond and instead just ran his hand up her body a couple of times with a blissful smile, she tried again. “…You don’t actually want to get married,” she said more as a statement.

“Why not?” He asked simply.

“Well…” She began but then realized she didn’t actually have a good reason. “We’ve only known each other a year and a half,” she eventually attempted.

Chris laughed. “A lot of people get married within a year of the first date, Aun. You told me yourself your parents married after only a five month courtship,” he pointed out.

The bassist was right, but Anya was still hesitant. Things were going so well already. What was the point of adding marriage? She didn’t think the pressure and extra responsibility would help anything. “Living together is practically married, you know. None of our friends in relationships are married.”

“Gail and Frank married,” Chris reminded. The couple had attended the former model’s wedding to Frank Zappa only a month before the birth of their daughter, eccentrically named Moon, back in August. Anya thought the whole situation was rash and premature, but whenever she kept in touch with her best friend, the new wife didn’t sound any less in love and only had good stories to share. “So are Roger and Ianthe, of course,” he added conveniently ignoring Dolores was Jim’s second wife. 

“Come on…” She heard him tease and break her from her thoughts. She felt him soothingly rub her arm as she was lost pensively. Anya obviously didn’t want to break-up and cared for Chris, but…she just found it hard to believe a young rockstar would want to settle down. 

“You really want to get married at 22?” She asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, 23 next week,” he corrected with a smirk. “Shouldn’t it really be the other way around? What with you already in your mid-20s.”

Anya’s brow suddenly creased. “What’s that supposed to mean?” She instigated almost offended.

“Nothing,” he clarified hastily. “That was rude,” he apologized and scooched up for a quick kiss.

“Need I remind you we’re in the middle of a sexual revolution,” she informed, though also humorously. 

“Good thing neither of us care about orgies then,” he joked. It took all of Anya’s effort not to say ‘or groupies,’ knowing full well he was interested in casual sex before they became serious. But then again, so was she…

Chris cupped her cheek gently and pulled her closer for a slow kiss, which successfully got Anya to sigh in response. “I want us to take the next step, Anya,” she heard him whisper as she kept her eyes closed when they separated. He kissed her ear after flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Don’t you?” This time she recognized the sad tone in his voice.

She exhaled again and opened her eyes with a small smile. “You already know I adore you.” Two years ago Anya was enjoying all the advantages to her independence and sexual liberation. But now she was finding all of that less interesting and wanting to stay committed to Chris. Yet in the back of her mind, she never forgot how easy it can be to give into temptation, especially these days.

He nodded and brushed her earlobe in between his thumb and index finger. He was technically right. It was a logical move for the relationship, and she really should have nothing to worry about. They loved each other and enjoyed being together. Did it really make a huge difference if she added a ring on her finger? She was confident he was being just as faithful as she was, not only because they were spending most of their free time together. But also because she trusted him enough to know she would sense if there might be something wrong. Anya bit her lip and let out one final breath. 

“Alright. Let’s get married.”

Chris sat up in excitement and pulled her into an embrace, which she naturally reciprocated. She felt herself smile genuinely at his optimism as he kissed her head.

“This will be great!” His smile was still big as he released her. “And this can be a legitimate reason for you to take time off to travel with the band.”

Rather than respond to his suggestion, Anya just returned another grin and jested: “Leave it to you to propose as if you’re planning a trip.” 

“I know how much you hate domestic tradition,” he assured and pulled her back into his arms. “I love you,” he breathed happily.

“I love you too,” she agreed sincerely and found his lips for another kiss, this time more passionately.

With Chris’ correct assumption of Anya not caring for a formal proposal, neither had any hopes nor plans for a huge, wedding day event either. Instead, they chose to just quickly elope at the Los Angeles Superior Courthouse with only Clarence, Gail and little Moon as witnesses the weekend before Christmas. But even with hardly anyone else in attendance, Anya still dressed up for the occasion in a white mini-skirt, white blouse and white scarf, with her hair as flowy as ever, and a single daisy behind her ear. Chris was fairly casual, but not sloppy, in dark blue jeans, a white buttoned-up shirt and a black blazer. The four friends plus baby then dined at Chasen’s in west Hollywood for an on-the-spot reception. Anya did feel a little bad they didn’t give Chris’ mother a heads-up, though the unexpected delight in her voice over the phone when they told her made up for it. But Anya felt even worse when she fibbed to Chris about calling her parents to tell them the good news, when in reality she still hadn’t spoken to either of them in months.


	8. Nashville West

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently Clarence didn't actually play at the Opry with the band even though he was a part of the Nashville recording sessions. My bad, lol. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Ch. 8: Nashville West

Nashville, March 1968

The end of 1967 went by as if barely any time had passed at all for the newly married couple. Anya’s expectations for a nice, relaxing holiday season were granted, with her and Chris choosing to not bother with a honeymoon trip besides spending a night in Santa Barbara the day after they eloped. With no need for the Byrds to record anything currently and touring scheduled for summer, January became a relatively lax month as well. ‘The Notorious Byrd Brothers’ was released to some of the best reviews the band had received to date, with critics singling out Chris’ growth as a songwriter in the past year. The avid fans appeared to enjoy the new songs to no shock as well, yet the album struggled to climb the charts with the general public. Pop culture and society were changing at a rapid pace with hard rock now looking to be the next big movement in music. But Anya wasn’t too concerned for her husband’s group just yet, what with them smoothly crossing over from pop-folk to psychedelic rock, to their new record even having some Americana influence. She knew Chris and Jim would find a way to get back on the listeners’ radars. 

Anya’s own career wasn’t too bad either, with a raise and more lenient schedule to fit how she liked. Her reputation for easily getting along with her superiors was just as successful as ever. Anya usually made an effort to keep her personal life under wraps around her co-workers at Atlantic’s main office. Not because she was a recluse or anything, but because she liked her privacy and also didn’t want any extra attention focused on her love life with a celebrity. But when the female staff noticed her wedding band, she had to let the cat out of the bag. Surprisingly, she found a few of the younger employees were apparently lowkey fangirls. 

“You are so lucky you get to be with Chris,” a 20-year-old intern named Lana swooned to Anya one morning while she was checking her lipstick in her compact mirror. “I dig that whole dark and broody vibe.”

“He only appears like that in public, Lana,” the English woman reminded and let a coy smile form as she closed the mirror.

“Still though,” she insisted. “He’s tall and quiet in a mysterious way…” She continued to fawn leaning on her colleague’s desk. 

“Yes, Chris is very lucky his social anxiety comes across as cool and aloof,” Anya cheekily agreed as she placed her stuff back in her purse before grabbing a set of notes naming some TV programs she had to schedule for a couple of bands to appear on.

“By the way, you were right,” Lana’s tone suddenly switched to more serious. “That gold eye shadow really did compliment my complexion when I tried it on.”

Anya nodded pleasantly without looking up from the paper. “Good to hear.” This wasn’t the first time one of the young women around the office had asked for fashion and make-up pointers from the stylish co-worker, and she didn’t mind at all. 

Though Anya enjoyed her flower child makeover with her voluminous hair last year, the Summer of Love was long over and by February she chose to return to her shoulder length ‘do. Jim also shaved off all his facial hair while Chris continued to be one of the few men in his peer group to not care for growing out hair, save for letting his curls free. What really needed to change with the Byrds wasn’t so much their looks; but the fact that there were currently only two original, official members left in the group. Jim and Chris treated the situation as if they were making a whole new band, though obviously with the same name. Finding a new drummer was easy since Chris’ cousin, Kevin Kelley, had been struggling to join another band since his previous group, the Rising Sons broke up months ago. And Clarence was a no-brainer for second guitarist with him being game for another album. But most intriguing was how the band’s business manager, Larry Spector, recommended adding keyboards fulltime for the next line-up. And what they got would be much more than a new piano player.

Gram Parsons arrived in LA six months after Anya in fall of 1966, with the young lady surprised to find out they previously lived in New York around the same time too. The aspiring music artist was unsatisfied with his current band, the International Submarine Band, whom he had coined as ‘cosmic American music.’ A phrase which came off as pretentious to Anya until she heard a couple of the band’s tracks and realized they were what music critics were recently labeling ‘country rock.’ A term currently considered contradictory as the group jumped through hurdles just to get their sole album recorded and released before Gram abandoned ship. Rather than try out for groups looking for new members, Gram chose the more unique process of schmoozing all over SoCal for exposure and big name connections. So far, the tactic had worked pretty well, with the brown-haired, boyish Floridian now friends with actors Brandon deWilde and Peter Fonda; as well as Larry and Gram’s on-again/off-again girlfriend Nancy Ross, who was a catalogue model and bit player on film productions. In retrospect, it wasn’t much of a surprise the Byrds and Gram found each other. Nancy was in the middle of a fling with David when she met Gram, who effortlessly swept her off her feet. Jim and Chris were even occasional acquaintances with Gram already through their own friendships with Brandon and Peter, both of whom had helped get the Byrds a lot of early exposure all over Hollywood.

The pop-folk band was about to have the ultimate musical makeover they weren’t expecting, and to many different results. Anya herself quickly found the new bandmate wasn’t only traditionally handsome, musically talented and well-mannered, but also incredibly charismatic. It was no shock when only a week into recruitment, Gram convinced Jim to let him switch to rhythm guitar and second lead vocalist as priority over keys. 

As for the direction of the group’s music, Jim was already brainstorming quite a bit on a concept album that would span the historical transition of music from the turn of the century to the supposed future. He had ideas of the songs starting jazzy and bluesy, then folksy and country, then rock & roll all the way into electronic influences with synthesizers. Anya thought the whole thing sounded ridiculous, and even Chris and Gary were ‘whelmed’ with the idea. Gram however, was continually proving just how persuasive he could be by supporting Jim’s brainchild at first; until a few chats and a couple of jam sessions later when he successfully weaned the guitarist off the jazz and synthesizers, and convinced him the group should experiment with only the country sound. While Chris, Kevin and Clarence were already showing genuine interest in the genre, Jim wasn’t so taken with it. Yet when it became clear he was the outlier in the group, he decided to just go along for the ride. 

As a spectator, Anya had never given country music much thought and still wasn’t really seeing the appeal the male musicians were. But she also remembered how she didn’t care much for folk music either before she moved to the US. Still, it was exciting to see the pop-rock group suddenly invested in trying different things musically again. Things were progressing so fast since Gram entered the picture, the songwriter went as far as to convince Jim and Chris that to fully get into the mood for the next album, they needed to leave California and record directly in the capital of country music: Nashville. Chris was instantly up for the new direction, and naturally wanted Anya to accompany them, but not without some expected reluctance from the latter.

“I can’t go halfway across the country, Chris. I have my own career too, you know,” she reminded as she was putting clean dishes away in the kitchen one afternoon the first week of March.

“But it’s only two and a half weeks. We never had a proper honeymoon, and this could qualify as the same equivalent for vacation time,” he argued like a kid begging his mom to go to Disneyland. 

“I suppose so…” Anya really didn’t have any of her usual excuses to hold back from traveling right now. The trip wasn’t a tour, she didn’t know anyone who lived in Tennessee and the schedule would be only half the time of their usual recording sessions, since Jim told Gram they could record out of state only if they did overdubs and re-recordings in LA. 

She suddenly felt Chris hold her hand gently as she was paused next to the sink. “I hate being away from you so much…” The comment made her feel remorse. Even with her reasons, she also wished they didn’t have to be separated regularly. Anya thought about the situation for an extra moment.

“I’ll talk to Becca tomorrow about modifying my schedule this month,” she ultimately announced and was greeted with a big hug from Chris who lifted her off her feet.

“Finally,” he breathed with a happy smile. She felt herself become genuinely excited from both his reaction and the fact that she’ll be leaving California for the first time since they’ve met.

Only a week later, the band members, Jimmi, Larry, Gary and Anya headed out to Columbia’s sector in Nashville for the new adventure. The last time Anya traveled as the only woman with a band was over two years ago, and her past experiences with the Who and Kit were always between chaotic and thrilling. This time was much calmer and well organized, which she figured was because the Byrds were recording an album rather than performing live. She did briefly wish Dolores was on the short trip as well, like she was with the band’s first three tours. But the McGuinn kids were at the age where they were still too young to either be away from school too long or at home too long without a parent. And Anya knew Dolores wasn’t a fan of fulltime nannies, so the Brit was now the token, sole significant other for extended outings. She didn’t mind though. When she wasn’t being supportive wife and make-do assistant while visiting their sessions, she took full advantage of playing tourist around the major Tennessee city. Sometimes she would also try to get to know more about the rookie singer-songwriter who was rapidly becoming essential to an already established band. His ambition was admirable and he had the range to live-up to the responsibility, but…even with his likability, she couldn’t help but automatically wonder the possible dubiousness of his intentions.

One sunny afternoon while the guys were in the recording booths, Anya lounged outside on a table right next to the studio’s front entrance in sunglasses, a plaid, short-sleeved, knee-length dress and flats. She lazily filled in one of those quizzes found at the end of pop magazines while enjoying the nice weather until she heard the door open and glanced up to find Gram walking toward her.

“Hey there!” He waved with a friendly smile appearing casual in jeans and a brown T-shirt with an unbuttoned plaid shirt over it.

“Hello, Gram,” she returned with her own grin.

When he was greeted with less enthusiasm, he kept moving and placed his hands on the table to lean forward. “You don’t like me much, do ya?” 

“On the contrary,” Anya corrected coolly and placed her pen down to properly look at the musician. “I find you to be one of the most fascinating and charming people I’ve met in the music community,” she claimed still nonchalant. “It’s easy to see why Nancy keeps running back to you.” 

The compliments caused a bashful expression from him. “I wouldn’t have guessed with you sticking to Chris and Roger all the time,” he replied while taking a seat opposite her, making her assume the group was in the middle of a break.

“Well, I am married to Chris,” Anya pointed out. “And I have known Jim just as long.”

Gram’s brow arched at the old moniker. “Yeah, you must if you’re still calling Roger ‘Jim,’” he noticed.

She just shrugged. “Old habits are hard to break,” was all she explained. 

“That is true,” he agreed. “Kind of like my habit of making fast friends, huh? I think you’re the first person to give me the cold shoulder since I moved to California,” he teased with a coy look.

Anya’s face stayed stoic at the playful accusation. “I doubt that.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Gram suddenly agreed. “Croz gave me the middle finger when I asked Nancy out,” he revealed still smiling.

The reference to the former Byrd got an amused grin out of the brunette. “I can’t imagine that was a hard decision for her to make,” she retorted back.

“Ah, so you’re up on the band’s dramatics? I’ve been trying to get the full story on everyone leaving, but I wasn’t expecting Chris to be so tight-lipped,” the music artist claimed.

The comment surprised Anya for a split second. “That’s right…sometimes I forget I’m an exception to that rule.” 

Gram was intrigued with that response. “Oh, really? Care to share your secret? From one outsider to another?” He asked leaning closer on the table for fun.

“I don’t know if my techniques would have the same affect coming from you,” she estimated with her own smirk this time.

“Heh, I see…” He got the suggestion and stood up from his chair. “Guess I’ll have to be more creative then.”

“Good luck,” she wished cheekily. 

“Thanks,” he accepted and took a couple of steps backwards. “Great to finally converse with the princess properly.”

Anya’s eyes instantly rolled back exasperatedly from the embellished reference as she straightened her posture. 

“Kidding,” Gram insisted with a hand raised and an easy-going grin. “You know…I can actually relate to that,” he claimed more seriously while dropping his arm. “More than you probably realize.”

Her body tensed less with her face softening as he reassured her subtly. He parted with a light wave which she acknowledged with a nod. How the quick chat ended made her confident they would continue to get along for the rest of the trip. The elusive musician also carried through living up to his mystique as Anya was shocked to soon discover he was only 21 years old, thus two years younger than Chris, and four and a half years younger than Jim and herself. Chris himself also found he was not only forming a new musical partnership, but also a decent friendship based on how many similarities he and Gram kept finding with each other. Things appeared to be looking up for the new fivesome with Chris, Kevin and Clarence now totally infected with Gram’s passion for country and western. While Jim still had his reservations on the genre switch, he treated the record like an actor would with a new character and played the part. There was one, small, sort of awkward thing that lingered during the Nashville visit…

“You might want to turn that frown upside down, mister,” Anya playfully jibbed one night while she and Chris were walking back to the hotel after Gram treated them plus Kevin to a dinner at a high-end BBQ in town. Her arm was looped around his while he held a rather indifferent expression. She nudged him lightly. “Especially since this is the first time in months I can remember either of us not paying for a night out.”

Chris’ mouth widened in a halfway attempt to grin, but was obviously put on as he was stuck in thought.

“Well, I found tonight rather nice,” she continued and appreciated the starry night sky down the city street. “No surprise Gram has spectacular taste in cuisine on top of everything else.”

“Yeah…” He finally spoke. “I’m starting to think Gram might be a little too perfect.”

She glanced up to him. “Oh?”

“Talent, good looks, charm, fashion sense…status…” He lingered at the end of his list.

“Such as his family having money?” She estimated.

He had an ambiguous expression which confirmed her question. “Something tells me it wasn’t just his guitar that seduced Nancy,” he suggested.

Anya shrugged her shoulder.

“And I didn’t consider there might be any competition in that regard.”

Her brow creased, though amusedly. “What do you mean?”

“Well…theoretically…” Chris began carefully. “He’d probably be a better match for you.”

She huffed. “You already know I don’t care about any of that. If I did, I would have made a move on David the day we met,” she claimed referring to the fact that his former bandmate’s father, Floyd Crosby, was an Oscar winning cinematographer and his mother, Aliph, an heiress. 

He placed his hands in his pockets idly. “Even so. Must feel nice to have that kind of support when you need it.” 

“Sure, but now you have money too, Chris,” she pointed out once again. “You have for quite a while.”

“Yeah, but the thing is, even after you start making money,” he countered. “You never forget what it was like to not have it.”

Anya wasn’t sure where Chris was going with his assertions. After a long pause, she eventually asked: “Why are you saying this?” 

He clearly wasn’t expecting her response with the couple now met with another long, silent moment. Once their hotel entrance was in sight, the secretary chose to end the conversation and began soothingly rubbing his arm. “The album’s going so well. No need to get unnecessarily weird all of a sudden,” she reassured with a kiss on his jacket covered arm, which successfully got his body to relax. “Trust the people in your life, love,” she concluded and hoped this would be the last awkward incident between them for the rest of the visit.

Luckily, Anya was correct with her predictions. There weren’t any more strange interactions between her and Chris, and he seemed to get over his brief insecurity. The recording sessions would end with the band feeling solid and in sync with each other. Even some of the bigger session players in country music played on the record, including pedal steel guitarist Lloyd Green and banjo player John Hartford. The whole line-up sounded great and Gram provided a refreshing vocal delivery to counter Jim’s and Chris.’ Anya did find it peculiar that after three albums of proving they were more than a folk cover band with many stellar original compositions, they reverted back interpreting already existing material. From traditional tunes, to popular country songs to a couple of obligatory Dylan covers. There were only three new songs on the present record…and each was written by Gram. From what she was saw at the sessions, Gram was also singing lead quite a bit too. While Jim had an occasional habit of going with the flow, she imagined sooner than later the frontman would begin feeling like the southerner was making himself a little too comfortable in the position. 

Anya and Chris concluded the final day of the sessions in bed after eating a quick dinner downstairs at the hotel diner. Both were under the covers completely naked with the brunette on top of the curly haired star as their hands trailed all over each other’s skin and they kissed passionately. The couple were still in the midst of foreplay, but Anya was clearly the more invested partner in the act of love, with Chris mentally elsewhere. She pulled away after capturing his bottom lip, a bit rougher than usual to grab his attention, and heard a barely audible moan from him.

“What am I doing wrong?” She asked bluntly while whipping her hair out of her face and leaning on his chest.

“It’s not you,” he insisted while running his hand over her back and shoulder. “It’s never you.” 

Anya sighed with a soft smile, already aware it was more likely he was still mulling over what to make of his new musical partner and friend. “Don’t make me the jealous one now,” she teased with a gentle nudge. When Chris just responded with his own grin before his eyes slowly drifted down in thought, she tried again with a kiss right below his nipple. Her right hand traveled down his side and over his waist while she leaned lower until she felt his hand suddenly grab hers.

“Not right now,” he requested.

An indulged chuckle left Anya’s mouth. “You have to be the most resilient man I’ve ever known,” she claimed as she scooted back up and rested on her elbow. He continued holding her hand and brushing his thumb over it. “Would you like to talk?” She asked after a comfortable minute.

He let out a quiet breath in consideration. When it became clear Chris wasn’t actually going to reply, she began looking around the room. Anya’s eyes landed on a cowboy hat on the bedstand she bought as a lark the week they arrived in Nashville. Leaning over the bed, she picked up the hat and placed it on her head. 

“Howdy, partner! Are ya from these here parts? I’m in need of a horse and map, and a rider while I’m at it,” she suddenly exclaimed with pseudo-excitement and an attempt at a stereotypical southern dialect that sounded completely fake.

Chris was so caught off guard by the presentation he burst out laughing in genuine surprise. The reaction made Anya smile and glad she could break him out of his funk. “That was great, babe. I think you just proved there’s no such thing as a posh cowgirl.”

She grabbed the hat and dropped it on his chest. “Just as well. I’d rather leave all the western sentimentalities to you anyway.”

He tossed the hat across the room after sitting up and pulled her into an embrace, which she gladly returned and made her straddle his waist. The previous void now successfully dissipated.

Rather than just fly home after the recordings were finished, the guys made the most of the music capital and arranged two public appearances to test out their new sound with listeners before departing the city. First was to perform on the iconic Grand Ole Opry and second was an interview with radio DJ Ralph Emery’s popular WSM program. This sounded like a smart idea initially, until literally the minute they stepped on stage in front of the Tennessee natives at the Opry and were met with a rude awakening. While rock and pop music were fairly broad and open with crossing over genres, the country music scene was still very conventional and disconnected from the current fads, even more so than the old school elitists in folk. The audience was obviously apprehensive to accept the brand new trend in rock music. Even the venue staff went as far as to be unwelcoming by referring to the band as ‘long-hairs’ and ‘hippies’ despite the five men making an effort to get haircuts before flying over and cleaning up well in pullover sweaters or buttoned shirts with nice pants. 

Anya stood in the wings stage right dressed in jeans, a checkered patterned blouse, and the cowboy hat from before to try and fit the mood of Ryman Auditorium. She felt herself tense as the crowd refused to accept the band’s new country friendly sound, sporting bored or unimpressed expressions. By the second verse of their rendition of Merle Haggard’s ‘Sing Me Back Home,’ she could hear someone chirping “tweet, tweet” in reference to the band’s name and a male voice loudly yelled, “Comb your hair!” Anya grimaced as she watched the five musicians try to not psych themselves out musically from the negative reactions. Chris was his typical stoic self, while Gram was playing up the showmanship as much as he could. Clarence and Kevin seemed a bit cautious of the new environment as Jim held the similar bothered expression Anya remembered from the disastrous Monterey Pop performance last summer. 

Midway through the song, one of the stagehands stopped next to Anya to watch the sabotaged performance and coolly leaned his arm on the wall. “Yeah…takes commitment to gain respect in this business,” he stated plainly with a noticeable local dialect.

“They’re committed,” she assured just as coolly.

The tall man whipped his head in her direction as if she grew another head, clearly not expecting her own accent. “Why, get this,” he started with a surprised laugh. “So the group’s from California and the girlfriend’s English, huh?”

“It appears so,” was all Anya replied and not really interested in correcting that she was actually Chris’ wife to keep the chat going. She crossed her arms over her front as the song ended and program host Roy Acuff walked back on the stage next to the musicians. 

“Well, boys. That was somethin’ else,” he began with a toothy smile and stopped next to Gram, who was center stage. “You know, we love Merle here on the Opry.”

“Ah yeah, he’s a legend,” Gram agreed with an eager, anxious smile. Anya wondered why he would be so excited considering the circumstance. 

“So why don’t we go into another one of his tunes, from your next record, if I remember correctly. Was it ‘Life in Prison?’” Roy offered, although sounding more scripted than a legitimate suggestion.

Gram perked up even more. “Oh, no. We’re gonna play my new song, ‘Hickory Wind!’”

Wrong answer.

There was a silent pause with Jim and Chris quickly looking at each other while Roy was taken aback by the announcement.

“Well, gee, son. I don’t think our listeners and viewers know that tune…” He drifted pointedly.

“Yeah, but they will once we play it—and when they buy the album,” Gram informed pleasantly and standing his ground.

Another moment occurred between them until it became apparent Gram wasn’t going to change his mind. Rather than argue again, Roy kept it professional and reluctantly let the deviation slide. The other Byrds were currently frozen in uncertainty and appeared as if the song choice was news to them too. “Alright then…Folks, here you have it—what was the name of the song, again?” 

“‘Hickory Wind,’” Gram repeated confidently and rearranged his guitar strap for preparation. 

“Right. Here they are again, everybody. The Byrds,” Roy presented again drolly before leaving the stage on the opposite side of Anya. Jim hesitated for a second before going into the opening chords of the song after passing a critical glance to Gram. Chris, Clarence and Kevin followed in suit while Gram sang impassionedly. As if the crowd wasn’t already put off by the performers covering a respected country star, they now had zero interest in paying attention to an original piece. The embellished yawns and eyerolls were even more apparent, with a few people checking their wrist watches. 

“Oh, man,” the stagehand next to Anya guffawed before leaving the corner to light up a smoke with a couple of other staff employees. The brunette let out a tired sigh before grabbing her cowboy hat from her head and chose to just hold the object, suddenly feeling foolish. Despite the trainwreck in front of her and the fact that the band wasn’t prepared to play the brand new material live, the music still showed potential to her as a listener. Gram’s song was good. It was clearly personal with the lyrics about unhappiness despite being given everything a boy could want and the loneliness of privilege. Anya could relate to some of the sentiment from her own similar upbringing, although she was fortunate to not have as much tragedy in her own childhood from what Chris told her about Gram’s. When the song ended, another male voice shouted: “Go back to Los Angeles!” 

Anya closed her eyes and tried not to cringe. The guys didn’t deserve this. They may be out of their league at the moment, but their interest in the country genre was genuine. She knew they could grow into their new direction, just like they did with psychedelic rock. Rather than wait for Roy to come back and properly end the performance, the band unplugged their instruments and walked directly backstage instead. Kevin and Clarence looked embarrassed, while Gram was completely nonplussed, though Anya figured that had to partly be a front. Jim headed straight to Jimmi and Larry, who had been backstage for the whole incident. The on-stage misfire apparently all it took for the guitarist to jump right back into leader mode. The two managers looked as unprepared as Anya and the band were by the demonstration, with Larry particularly bewildered. Instead of being legitimately upset like previously bad gigs, Chris just sauntered up to Anya wearily with his bass. She smiled up at him gently. 

“The songs sounded good, even with everything else,” she calmly assured while rubbing his arm softly before her eyes landed on Jim, Jimmi and Larry. “Do you think Jim regrets the trip?” She asked honestly as she watched the three men speak hurriedly.

Chris took his time looking around backstage to eye the present environment. “I don’t know,” he responded. “Guess we’ll find out.” He stepped aside to grab his instrument’s case and place it inside. 

“—The most disrespectful thing I’ve ever experienced in all my years of hosting!” 

Roy’s voice suddenly roared through the backstage area, shouting to whoever was in sight, which was presently Gram and Kevin. 

“I’ll tell you what, you’ll never perform on this show or concert hall again! You’re through playing country!” He shouted this time in Jim’s direction. 

Chris wrapped his arm around Anya and led her out of the room before they could hear anymore from the angered program host, with the young woman glad to be escaping the setting.

The interview with Ralph Emery the next morning wasn’t any better, with the famous DJ openly belittling and shading the band. He even teased not playing a promo acetate of Dylan’s ‘You Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere’ from their recent sessions until eventually relenting—but not without being dismissive and comparing the group to an amateur garage band. The ill-fated episode ended with Ralph shamelessly making a pass at Anya once the mics were turned off, which didn’t amuse Chris, though it was Gram who called the DJ out on it. By the time the small Byrds crew was flying back to California late that afternoon, everyone was completely demoralized and emotionally numb. Anya spent most of the flight with her head resting on Chris’ shoulder, while the bassist chose to sleep off the unfortunate climax to an otherwise decent visit.


	9. She Has a Way

Ch. 9: She Has a Way

Hollywood, April 1968

Back home, the hostility from the country music capital was fortunately gone, but now there were new problems that were reminiscent of the ‘Notorious’ production. Jim didn’t regret any of the album’s content, but he was doubting the potential. So he scheduled for more session time with the band and Gary at Columbia for some re-recordings and new arrangements. The label executives themselves had no idea what to do with the foreign sounding material either. Instead of trying to find a small demographic who might care about both rock and country music, they chose to arrange a new promo video for the group to shoot of ‘Mr. Spaceman’ from three records ago. Jimmi signed the band up for a couple of weekends worth of gigs at their regular Hollywood clubs to see if they would have better luck with their usual fans and listeners. While the west coasters weren’t as intense or loud with their feelings, they chose the complete opposite disappointment, which was to just get up and leave. The couple of shows Anya stopped by held under 10 viewers by the end of their setlist who were either polite or honestly interested in seeing the music act branch outside of folk, pop and psychedelia. The lack of enthusiasm from both sectors of music convinced Columbia the guys needed to go back to performing the hits when they would appear on the standard TV programs for promotion.

There was also the issue that Gram and Kevin weren’t actually contracted to Columbia as clients during all of these sessions and gigs, and were being paid by the band themselves for the studio hours. Which was fine until someone from LHI Records informed Columbia in early April that Gram was still contracted with the former for another year. This turned out to be the breaking point between Jim and Gram, with the guitarist taking the clause as an opportunity to remind who was the frontman of the Byrds and decline various suggestions from the songwriter. Whether it be Gram wanting to recruit his own friends—like pedal steel guitarists JayDee Maness and Pete Kleinow—for the band, or blatantly asking for a raise since he was still momentarily freelance. The first of which Jim brushed off and the second he laughed off. Chris, who had been doing a good job of hiding his own self-consciousness with his new bandmate up until now, naturally sided with Jim. When it became obvious Gram was losing the battle, he started toning down the recommendations and began acting like a team player.

The tension didn’t completely die though, with Gram obviously not agreeing to Jim’s alterations to the production and still having to remember he was a new member of a successful band. Clarence also chose to back out of performing live and stick to his session jobs once they returned to LA, giving Gram temporarily appeasement with an excuse for the band to replace him with JayDee in the shows. Unlike the last album though, Chris wasn’t sulking around the house at the end or beginning of the day and was already focusing on his own original music for the future instead. Anya was glad to see him continue progressing artistically, but what she didn’t see coming was any animosity rubbing off on her end once they were home. Not from the guys, but because there was a new breed of rivalry at the concerts now: the GTOs. 

Girls Together Outrageously were a troupe of local LA County groupies formed by Frank Zappa as an experiment to see if he could make an album with the girls backstage. But before the record was even completed, the groupies had rocketed to notoriety all over town from socializing with all the hit music acts. While Christine, Reine and the other original Byrds groupies weren’t exactly friendly, they were at least low maintenance at the past shows and sessions. These new girls were rowdy and persistent, with most not afraid to push their way into their fave’s eyesight, no matter if a girlfriend or wife was around either. Anya got her first dose of them late April visiting a show at the Troubadour. Three girls she recognized as Pamela, Cindy and Mercy were in the front row showing much appreciation by overly swooning and hanging onto the stage. After the group took a bow following the last song for the night, the groupies made a beeline backstage where Anya already was, eyeing the whole ordeal from the side with a cocked eyebrow and her arms crossed. The band made it to the lounge area and dressing rooms at the same time as the girls. The latter of whom anxiously tried to grab the guys’ attention while they freshened up and put away their instruments. The two bandmates who appeared to interest the new groupie scene the most were Gram and Chris. Jim, while endearing in his own way, never gave Anya the impression he cared for the groupie fad, even if he had trouble staying married. Kevin was relatively new to fame and there still wasn’t a consistent fifth member, so that left the bassist and the rhythm guitarist. Chris didn’t pay the young ladies any mind besides being polite for obvious reasons, while Gram was totally eating up the attention. Suddenly his lack of commitment to Nancy was making sense.

When Chris and Kevin returned to the room, Anya heard rapid whispering next to her. She found Pamela and Mercy looking directly at Chris rather starry-eyed and infatuated. Anya took a quick glimpse at the young men to see they were still currently occupied before turning to the girls while clearing her throat. “You know, ladies,” she began to distract them. “I’ve got on good authority both Kevin and JayDee are completely single,” she informed with a tone and expression as if she was offering a fine deal.

But the young women just looked at her as if she were an alien and went back to whispering and hoping Chris and Gram would walk their way. It was just Anya’s luck that the man responsible for the GTOs relevancy was the husband of her best friend. And of course, Gail didn’t see the problem with it since she considered herself one of them years earlier. Anya rolled her eyes and walked over to Chris when she saw he was heading her way. She noticed the amusement on his face when Pamela and Mercy giggled while he waved to them. 

“They really should enhance the security back here,” she commented dryly as he stopped in front of her.

“Oh, stop,” he chuckled. “I’m sure you were the exact same way with Elvis,” he guessed cheekily.

“Maybe so,” she started agreeing. “But Elvis never toured through Europe and I was able to behave like this in the privacy of my bedroom,” she insisted coolly. “And you know these girls are interested in more than just your autograph and photo.”

Chris’ amusement grew as he heard the edge in her voice with the last comment. “Where did this come from? I don’t remember any cattiness with Reine and her friends,” he teased and wrapped his arm around her waist. 

Anya embraced his middle with her left arm a bit more prominently than she normally would have. “It’s not cattiness. I just believe in tact.”

He smirked and pecked her lips while rubbing her back, as if to pacify her. “They’re only having fun. We can’t exactly be picky with who our supporters are right now, madam,” he claimed in a fun tone.

“Uh huh…” She lingered absent-mindedly while watching Pamela flirt with Gram. She studied the young girl’s appearance which reminded her of a life-size copy of the kind of cute, tiny clothes a child’s doll would wear. “I think I wore a similar ensemble to a birthday party in primary school.”

“Ooh,” he razzed now wrapping both arms around her. “I’m liking this feisty side of you.” She kept a hold on him with one arm still while he squeezed her and she continued ignoring his teasing.

“They’re barely out of high school, you know,” she stated, feeling for the first time like she might be too old for the rock music scene. Anya never sensed much serious competition with either the fangirls or groupies in the past, mostly because she was having her own fun not taking her sex life seriously. But now that she was married and had more responsibilities, the concept of carelessly chasing celebrities and partying non-stop quickly started sounding juvenile. Especially compared to the GTOs, who were roughly half a decade younger than her. It made Anya feel more mature than them, but at the same time a little dull.

“They usually are,” Chris broke her thoughts with. “Which just goes to show you have even less to worry about,” he reminded with chaste kiss on the side of her mouth, making her face him. “How could anyone in that bracket measure up next to someone so accomplished and gorgeous and sophisticated?” He asked rhetorically. Before Anya had a chance to respond, he pulled her forward for a loving and passionate kiss, despite there being people in the room. She was momentarily surprised before properly raising both hands to his shoulders to keep her balance and give in to the intimate gesture. A sigh broke through as she kissed him back with their lips parting. She was almost light-headed when he separated only a second later. Her eyes fluttered open when he pulled her forward to rub up and down her arm. If the passion was an attempt to curb her moment of doubt, it worked. But soon enough Anya was feeling silly for how she behaved in the first place.

“You want to grab a burger on the way home?”

She heard Chris ask and bring her back to reality. 

“Oh, sure,” she agreed with an appreciative smile and then let go of him to grab her purse she left by the dressing room. On her way back she found Gram giving her an overly animated ‘ay-okay’ signal with his hand and a wink, clearly having witnessed the brief kiss. She shook her head playfully while smirking and held Chris’ hand as they left the club. “Oh, by the way,” she spoke and stopped walking as something occurred to her once they weren’t backstage. “Did you forget the make a couple of deposits recently?”

Chris thought about the question for a second before shaking his head. “I don’t think so. Why?”

“I was at the bank earlier today and thought your account looked…off,” she informed. The couple had been slacking on creating a joint bank account since getting married, but Chris trusted Anya enough to share his private information, especially since she did bank runs as part of her job. “It just feels like it should be higher. Between all the recording and shows lately.”

“Weird,” he replied. “I’ll run it by Larry and Roger,” he planned and squeezed her hand as they began walking again. She nodded and took one last glance backstage to find Gram was still chatting with Pamela and Mercy, while Cindy was talking to Kevin.

“You’d think California would be more open-minded about musical experimentation,” Chris droned back at the house while organizing his record collection on the living room floor and clearing out some he had lost interest in. “I don’t see how adding some steel pedals is any different than the sax and trumpets all over ‘Younger Than Yesterday.’”

Anya took a second to reply as she was snugged on the corner of the couch with her planner and a pen in her hands, plus a novel next to her. “Well…to be honest, it took me a while to warm up to the new songs too,” she revealed carefully.

“I thought you said they sounded good?” He asked while raising his head to look at her.

“They do. The current line-up might be tightest you’ve ever performed live,” she assured. “But…the lyrics on some of the tracks…there are references to Christianity and Jesus…and no one in the band is Christian…and I know you five are being sincere with your music, so it’s not parody or ironic…I suppose I don’t really get it,” she concluded.

He huffed amusedly while putting a John Coltrane record in the ‘keep’ pile and a Jan & Dean EP in the ‘out’ one. “Did you forget our biggest single’s lyrics come from Ecclesiastes?”

“I know,” she said while closing her planner. “But ‘Turn! Turn! Turn!’ doesn’t necessarily refer to God as a subject. The words just happened to be from the Bible.”

Chris sat blankly for a long moment until continuing. “I guess we figured the material would be self-explanatory…Gram grew up around gospel music.”

“True,” Anya concurred. “But the band made ‘The Christian Life’ sound more rock than gospel, yes?”

“Well…” He struggled to explain. “I don’t know what to tell you. The sentiment is similar. It’s good music.”

“Right…” She didn’t want to come across as ignorant and was just curious to learn more about the inspiration for the chosen songs. “Are you thinking of becoming religious? What’s your denomination?”

The questions sounded brusquer than she intended, with Chris deciding he was done with the stack of records and picked them up to leave the room without speaking.


	10. You Showed Me

Ch. 10: You Showed Me

Los Angeles, May 1968

Anya dropped the topic of religion after the nearly uncomfortable moment following the Troubadour gig from then on. There wasn’t really much point dwelling on it since outside of the new songs, Chris’ personality and preferences hadn’t changed and she actually didn’t care herself either way. She had no history with practicing religion beyond being baptized when she was a baby and attending Christmas and Easter mass as part of family tradition. But she wasn’t particularly against the concept. She just wasn’t familiar with it. None of the boys and men she had ever been involved with were spiritual in their everyday life, and Chris himself was raised rather secular as well. They were essentially on the same page, so there wasn’t much point to nag him. Chris was right, you don’t need to have a connection with a song’s origin to appreciate it.

In the band’s circle, tension had grown between Jim and Gram again when the latter finally found a way around his legality issue. Jim had previously opted to re-record the vocals for three tracks which were originally Gram’s as a way to cover up his participation with another label’s record. A suggestion the newcomer obviously wasn’t up for and wasn’t even needed when Larry’s lawyer got everything sorted with Gram’s old contract before Jim could even give the task a go. Or so it appeared. Gary was apparently more on Jim’s side of this battle and had no issue making the changes the frontman wanted to remind fans this was indeed a Byrds album and not a Gram Parsons effort. Anya learned about Jim’s vocals replacing Gram’s on ‘The Christian Life,’ ‘You Don’t Miss Your Water’ and ‘100 Years from Now’ rather abruptly one lunch break when she stopped by Columbia to visit Chris. 

Much like with when she visited a past ‘Notorious’ session, Anya was greeted with the studio door suddenly flying open. Only this time she was a few feet away from the extruder, Gram, who was in front of her with a frustrated huff. She took a step back as he noticed her presence and tried to compose himself from what appeared to be an outburst. Anya stood in surprise while Gram ran his hands through his hair as he took a deep breath. He currently wore a leather jacket, grey turtleneck and jeans that made him look stylish even when mad. The musician switched to an apologetic grin and sighed before beginning to move past her. 

“Chris sure is one hell of a friend,” he exasperated as he continued toward the elevator. 

Not sure what the comment was supposed to suggest, Anya entered the recording room with her brow creased curiously. She found Jim, Chris and Gary seated by the soundboard calmly to counter Gram’s anger. “Hi, boys,” she began somewhat warily and moved to stand by Chris while Jim chose that moment to get up and head out of the room. “I had an interesting moment with Gram just now,” she revealed while looking at the guitarist mid-walk.

“That’s a coincidence. So did we,” he responded nonchalantly though with a bit of a glint in his eye as he paused in front of her.

“I’ll bet you did…” Anya replied, not bothering to hide the suspicion in her voice or face.

Jim feigned ignorance to any of her innuendos and sported an innocent smile. “Great to see you, Anya,” he parted with while carrying on out of the room.

She watched him leave through the door before stepping in front of Chris, right when Gary decided to also take a break and exited after a quick greeting to her. The absences from both men confirmed to her they had just done something unsavory. When the producer was out of sight, Anya’s body landed on Chris’ lap considering the lack of company in the room. She placed her arm around his shoulders while he responded by loosely wrapping his arm around her waist. “You know, I will admit I might have been the first to suspect Gram of taking more than he can chew with his band membership. But you could have reeled him in before giving him carte blanche back in Nashville,” she considered while playing with one of his curls and letting her bag fall to the floor. Naturally Anya understood why the two music artists were feeling protective of the band’s legacy all of a sudden, but at the same time she felt for Gram because he did take full advantage of the creative freedom and it showed in his participation.

“You’re not wrong,” Chris agreed casually.

She ran her hand through his hair gently one more time before speaking again. “Why do I have a feeling there’s more to Gram’s upset reaction?” 

There was a mild beat before Chris squeezed her hip. “Jim dubbed over one of his originals.”

The brunette sighed tiredly. She considered Jim one of her friends by now, so it was disappointing when she would hear about him making sketchy choices like this. She knew deep down he was better than that. “Which one?”

“‘100 Years from Now,’” he responded.

There was a bit of relief knowing Jim didn’t touch ‘Hickory Wind,’ since it was obviously Gram’s favorite off the new record. “You don’t see a problem with that?” She asked, secretly interested in what goes through his mind when his mates would duke it out like this.

He just shrugged while not looking at her. “Sometimes the ball’s not in your court. It’s not a burn. It’s just life.”

“…Really?” Anya asked unconvinced and underwhelmed.

Chris glanced to her and smiled coyly. “I know you’re not that naïve, Aun. You’ve been in this business as long as the rest of us.”

She wasn’t expecting the accusation and was a bit taken aback. “Well, I don’t remember Pete ever doing something like this to John,” she mentioned regarding her friends and former colleagues.

“That you know of,” Chris tossed back.

She sighed again, already confident Pete wouldn’t do something this bad to his own best friend. “Chris, I realize this group has had drama its whole existence, but maybe you all need a reality check…” She considered frankly.

Instead of verbally responding, Anya felt him raise his hand and toy with a broach pinned to her blouse. She glimpsed down to his hand as he touched the glittering object he gave her as part of his gift for her 26th birthday over a week ago. “I love how you can make anything look natural on you,” he complimented softly, though she sensed he was also trying to change the subject. She smiled and tightened her arm around him supportively even though she wasn’t satisfied knowing her husband didn’t have a problem excusing immoral motives. 

“Gail, Moon and I are meeting for lunch across the street if you feel like being third wheel. Or fourth even,” she offered and rubbed his shoulder, which he returned with kneading her hip briefly. 

“Sounds nice,” he agreed freely. “I’m sure Moon and I can find something to chat about while you two gals mingle,” he theorized while she stood and he straightened up as well. 

She placed her bag back on her shoulder and grabbed his hand to lead him out of the recording studio. 

****

Jim and Gram must have successfully come to an agreement because rather quickly both musicians were back to behaving decent around each other just in time for the token summer tour. That or Gram was given a harsh reminder how he was lucky to be a Byrd when he could still be a nobody (although a well associated nobody). The album now officially had a title—appropriately ‘Sweetheart of the Rodeo’—and cover art as well. The latter fittingly an excerpt of an old Jo Mora painting of a blonde cowgirl posing in a yellow skirt, pink shirt and white hat with matching yellow roses around her in a heart shape. The LP was scheduled to come out at the end of the tour, which didn’t make sense, but also showed the label still didn’t have much faith in sales.

The tour itself was set for their usual stops in California, New York and England, as well as special detours in Ohio, Virginia, Washington and Italy from June to mid-July. But for the last couple of weeks of the agenda, Jim and Jimmi had arranged a new, less common location to perform which puzzled Anya to no end…

“South Africa? Have you read the news lately?” She asked quizzically while enjoying a cup of tea after she and Chris finished eating breakfast at home early May. 

The golden-haired bassist shrugged while drinking some of his coffee and reading a local surfing publication. “Roger got us a good deal.”

She wasn’t swayed by that response. “Apartheid is the highest it’s ever been in the country…I doubt Jim wants that kind of publicity for the band.”

“He actually already spoke to Miriam about it,” Chris revealed referring to South African performer and UN ambassador Miriam Makeba. “Apparently things are loosening up politically these days. We’ll probably play mixed crowds by the time we step in Durban.”

Anya thought he sounded incredibly gullible and kept investigating. “And Gram’s fine with this?” She asked remembering when the musician once mentioned to her how he was never fully comfortable growing up in cities enforcing segregation. 

He continued to not be too concerned. “He didn’t seem to have an issue when Jimmi announced the venue spots. We have been trying to branch out our touring routes for a while anyway,” he insisted.

Anya’s eyes squinted, still a bit suspicious. “I don’t know…Sounds like a great way to lose fans to me.”

Chris glanced up to her with an assuring smile. “It’ll go alright. Plus now I can finally meet your parents. That’s what I’m most looking forward to,” he confessed.

She paused for a moment. “Chris, the tour is two months long…”

“I know,” he concurred before lightly grabbing her hand. “But you kept me sane during Nashville and now I don’t know if I can travel out of town without you,” he claimed with a lopsided grin to show he was exaggerating, though still meant the sentiment.

“I’m not leaving my job just to go on a tour,” she pressed. “The Nashville trip was one thing, but there’s no way the label will allow me to take that much paid time off.”

“You could try telling them you’re pregnant,” he suggested lazily.

Anya rolled her eyes and let go of his hand. “I’m not lying to my co-workers. They don’t deserve that and I enjoy where I work. Be serious, Chris.”

“Okay, you’re right. Bad idea,” he agreed without argument and scooted forward. “Even if you took a break without pay, they love you and would likely take you back. Plus you have more money than any of us. You could afford it for one summer.”

“That’s not fair,” she snapped. “You know I’ve had my own account since moving off the estate.”

“Alright, fine,” he backed off with a raised hand to signal she was in the right. “I’m just saying you have a better back-up plan than most.”

“Do you want me on this tour or not?” She asked still annoyed he was being so flippant the whole conversation.

“Of course,” he reassured and held her hand again. There was a silent moment with only Chris gently brushing her hand. She accepted the intimacy aware he was trying to make up for his suggestions. “You have to admit, these lengthy breaks are becoming harder the longer we’re together…” He drifted with a little sadness after kissing her knuckles.

Anya sighed and loosened her tense posture with a weak smile. Inside she did wish things worked better with their schedules so she could properly experience the road again, especially with someone she loves. But not to the extent where she had to change most of her life. Yet…maybe Chris had a point. They were young and more financially stable than the average young adult. One summer away from home couldn’t hurt, would it? They don’t have kids or even pets, unless Chris’ horse across town counted. And it would be easy for her to find another job in the city if it really got to the point where Atlantic didn’t take her back. She would have to come up with some excuses to dodge them visiting her family while abroad, but she did miss London occasionally and it would be nice to see Italy. As for South Africa, well…nothing can be perfect…

The Englishwoman bit her lip before finally speaking. “I’ll go,” she agreed with a smile naturally forming as she watched his face instantly light up as he leaned forward around the table to embrace her for a hug. 

“I love you so much,” he whispered and held her tightly. She closed her eyes with her arms squeezing back until she felt him kiss her temple.

“I’ll finally be able to see if your childhood home lives up to my colorful imagination,” she heard him joke and completely break her out of the moment. 

“Oh…yes…” She agreed and forced a smile. “You lot better be on your best behavior this time too,” she requested changing the topic. “Make this worth my while as I leave my job.”

“Not a problem,” he assured with his face still beaming. “I’m always on my best behavior.”

She cocked an eyebrow with a smirk. “I’m not sure about that. But you are less loud than the others, so I suppose that does give you something.”

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and kissed her cheek before getting up and clearing their dishes. “I don’t even want to know where I would be without you,” he gushed while stepping toward the sink. She shook her head lightly and secretly hoped she could make this ham-fisted plan work.

Four weeks later the Hillman couple was at a bus station parking lot with most of the same Byrds team as last time, but now with a few additional roadies, a publicist and a reporter from NME assigned to cover the tour. Anya was seated in jeans, a brown pullover sweater, white blouse and feminine loafers. Two luggage bags were next to her feet at a table near the entrance their bus was scheduled to arrive to. She currently drew a winged shape with an eyeliner pencil around her eyes for something to do since the group arrived early to the station when there turned out to not be as much traffic en route as expected. Kevin was sitting next to her, apparently fascinated by her present activity. 

“Where’d you learn to do that?” He asked pointing at her eye area.

She glanced at him then put her mirror and make-up pencil down a moment later. “Boredom during independent study.”

Right then, Gram sauntered up to them as Jimmi called Kevin over for a favor, with the latter excusing himself to leave. 

“Howdy!” The brown-haired songwriter exclaimed with a grin. He wore a beige blazer, white long-sleeved shirt and matching beige pants.

“Good morning, Gram,” she greeted pleasantly as she placed her make-up and mirror back in her purse.

“Dig the starry eyes,” he said motioning to her face.

“It’s supposed to be winged like a butterfly or a bird. Because we’re with…” She lingered while motioning with her arm to suggest the band’s name.

“Ah-ha. Clever,” he passed lightly. 

Once again, Anya noticed a distinct lack of women a part of the traveling company. “No entourage this time?”

“Don’t know. Looks like the fellas know how to recruit the best help,” he responded with intentional obliviousness.

“I meant female companions,” she corrected coyly.

“Heh, well…to be frank, I thought that would be kinda tacky with a lady around,” he answered with some humbleness. 

Anya raised both brows in minor shock. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed brightly.

She smiled a bit impressed and appreciative.

“And I might have plans to meet someone in London,” he suddenly announced with an effected tone.

Her smile grew sideways. “Of course. You are the group’s eye candy after all.”

“Yeah. Funny how that turned out, huh?” Gram asked amusedly.

“Not necessarily,” she countered. “Most young girls are drawn to the cute, boyish type.”

He nodded. “True. But how many of them are as moody as I am in song?”

Anya rested her chin on her hand propped up on the table. “I think that works in your favor even more. It’s relatable and appealing to find a man who’s not afraid to be vulnerable.”

Gram appeared pensive as he took in her thoughts. “What about guys like Brando and Gable?” 

“Well…Everyone likes to feel protected at the end of the day,” she considered. 

The young man sensed someone walking toward them and looked beyond Anya to see Chris was nearby.

“Hey,” he greeted before stopping next to his wife in a bit more casual clothes compared to Gram of a black T-shirt and jeans with a large, stuffed duffel bag on his shoulder. “Our ride’s here,” he announced. 

“Alright,” Anya replied and stood up while placing her purse on her shoulder and grabbing her bags. “Let’s see how rusty I am with this road hoopla after so long.”

Gram moved ahead of them while Chris placed his arm around her loosely. “Don’t worry. It’s like riding a bike. You’ll get back into the swing of jet lag and room service in no time,” he predicted as they walked.

“I admit, I am curious to see how a ‘normal’ tour goes without trashed hotel TVs and toilet cherry bombs,” she said with some nostalgia to her Who road days.

“Probably more relaxing, since you were on the job for those trips and not just having fun,” he pondered.

“Speaking of…” She poked at his ribs playfully. “You could have tried to find me a similar gig for this tour as well.”

Chris paused their route as if the possibility never occurred to him. “Oh…Aun…I didn’t—”

“It’s alright, I’m not upset or anything,” she insisted and ran her hand up his side assuredly when he looked genuinely regretful. “But it probably would have been an easier way to convince me to go on the road,” she ended with a wink.

He smiled in return. “Just goes to show you’ll always be the more mature one in the relationship,” he lauded calmly. 

“Now, now,” she nudged before wiggling out of his arm to properly hold her bags. “You’re a fine specimen when the time calls for it.” 

They carried on to where the rest of the crew, equipment and additional luggage was while the bus doors opened and awaited to take them to West Covina for the first of the California shows on the tour.


	11. Change is Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're big Byrds fan, you'll notice I messed with the 1968 tour dates/schedule to make them all one big tour for the story's sake, heh.

Ch. 11: Change is Now

London, June 1968

Whether it was Anya’s influence or their own judgment (though she would like it was the latter), the Byrds and their team did make an effort to behave well while traveling with the Brit. Although that wasn’t to say they were completely innocent, what with the men still partaking in alcohol and weed after concerts. And Anya discovered fairly quickly that while they had chosen to be considerate with the lack of road wives this time, they were making it up with local girls in between cities. She really didn’t mind or care what they did in their hotel rooms though. She wasn’t a prude and she was already familiar with those kind of activities from her days with the wildest band in the world. In fact, Anya was more intrigued Gram apparently already knew people in London and was interested to know who the girl he was meeting up with is.

The tour schedule started on a good note beginning through LA County to San Diego all the way up to San Francisco and Seattle, before jetting over to Oxford, OH and Charlottesville, VA and finally NYC to end the US dates. All where the band continued to impress with how much they’ve grown as a live act and crafted a good mix of the hits, deep cuts and new material for their set lists. Anya found Seattle to be a nice change of pace for a different cosmopolitan west coast city outside of California, though she thought Oxford and Charlottesville were a bit quaint in comparison. Another pleasant discovery was how one of the band’s newer roadies, Carlos Bernal, was refreshingly ordinary and friendly. So Anya now had a new acquaintance to mingle with when the bandmates were busy. This came particularly handy in Rome while the guys were occupied warming up or speaking to reporters or venue staff; and she wouldn’t feel too much like a fish out of water with the language barrier while enjoying the city landmarks and chains.

During the international gigs, Anya became antsy for various reasons. One because she was hoping to bump into a friend or two from her homeland, like Shel Talmy’s wife Jenny Cowper or Kinks frontman Ray Davies; as well as just experience the staple of her youth for the first time in a long while. Another was to see how her husband’s group actually held up next to her old pals from the British Invasion (though she did get a little of that already at Monterey Pop). This was mostly out of curiosity than anything else, as she’s always thought the Byrds lived up to their title as ‘America’s answer to the Beatles.’

But the most anxiety inducing prospect for Anya was how she was so close to her family’s estate and Chris was still legitimately interested in meeting them. She was already sure neither her mother nor father would approve of her marrying an artist, let alone a rockstar. She didn’t want to disappoint him with how they likely won’t be the most welcoming crowd for less prestigious outsiders. While the young lady didn’t actually have a confirmation on that assumption since she hadn’t been involved with someone working class before she moved out, she knew her parents well enough to believe they would be snoots about it. She also didn’t need a new reason for Chris to feel inadequate as a partner and she definitely didn’t want to risk the chance of having a heated argument with her father in front of her husband. There was also a small unfortunateness of Anya secretly calling the bank affiliated with her family’s account for the first time in years to transfer £500 into American dollars for her personal account a week before they left LA. With going the whole summer without a paycheck and no definite idea of when she would be getting paid regularly again, she wanted to be extra safe, especially away from home for so long. She wasn’t proud of it, but she was still aware of how lucky she was with her background, as Chris noted. So she figured the amount she transferred would be small enough for no one to notice anything too unusual. 

Fortunately, the whole week in London was already pretty packed with three club concerts and a performance at a charity event in the Royal Albert Hall scheduled; plus the usual press junkets, interviews, soundchecks and obligatory showbiz parties for the guys to be occupied with. Banjo player and longtime band friend Doug Dillard was even going to appear on stage as a special bonus for all the shows. The brunette made some flimsy assurances and excuses to Chris on how they shouldn’t neglect business for free time, but that she would try to see how her parents are doing when she had a moment. That worked at the time, especially since she told him right as they were winding down in the hotel room after the first gig. But Anya wouldn’t have thought the turning point in the tour’s potential would begin in England and involve the Rolling Stones. 

On the eve of the RAH performance and following the concert at the Speakeasy, the Byrds hopped over to the Bag o’ Nails for a late night after-party put on by the Stones themselves. The English rockers weren’t only playing the same charity event, but were also already longtime casual buds of the SoCal group after the latter spent their very first tour as the Stones’ opening act across the US during the summer of 1965. The club was groovin’ with musicians, hangers on, celebrities, locals and other associates to music that gravitated from a local live act to eventually a DJ as the night grew late. Anya would swap between strolling around the club talking to people she was familiar with as acquaintances or sitting on Chris’ lap while conversing with partiers, and both in between sipping a flute of champagne in her hand. The rest of the band and co. appeared to be having as big a blast as she was. Especially Gram, who did indeed seem to have met up with a female someone. She was present at the party with black hair, a stylish mini-dress and holding a martini. Anya couldn’t recognize her face, though she was clearly very pretty. She wondered if the girl and the new Byrd already knew each other back in the states and she just happened to be in the city, or if she was a part of the Stones’ circle. 

The musician and his date were currently chatting with the only other person Gram had been paying attention to for the whole party: Keith Richards. The two rockstars had been inseparable all night and behaved as if they were lifelong friends. This might have come across as an odd match on sight, but really made a lot of sense. They both appreciated music from the American south, both had the same zest for living on top of some deep rooted traditionalism, both liked to get smashed just as much as the next rocker and both had a natural instinct for socializing. Only a few seconds after Gram sensed Anya was eyeing him, he carefully released his arm from resting on the young lady’s waist and excused himself from both the date and Keith. Anya placed her glass on the table and raised herself from Chris’ leg to barely any reaction from the music artist who was in the middle of a conversation with Doug. The southerner and Brit met halfway, which resulted in the former nearly tripping and spilling his half-empty glass of whiskey Anya knew wasn’t his first drink of the night. She caught his arms right as he was falling and he clumsily dropped his arm on her shoulder while failing to suppress a chuckle. 

“Anya-ya-ya…” He slurred and snorted in drunken amusement.

“Gram,” she returned with a smile and helped him straighten his posture. “You look like you’re having a good night.”

“Of course! Have you met Keith?” He asked while pointing his drink toward the guitarist.

“Yes, at quite a few parties already,” she responded referring to how the Who made appearances at many of the same events and gatherings as the Stones. 

“He’s the best!” Gram exclaimed with a gleeful grin. “You know…” He lingered and leaned closer to her as if about to tell a secret.

Anya’s brows rose slightly, but when he looked at her face, something else occurred to him. “It’s so wonderful you’re here with us, Anya,” he beamed with a bit of a sloppy hug. 

“Well, thank you,” she accepted and carefully eased him in an upright position. “It’s good to feel appreciated.”

“Every band needs a buffer who doesn’t care about the extravagance to keep them in place,” Gram insisted with a swig of booze.

She rolled her eyes jokingly. “I’d rather not be considered a babysitter.”

“Oh no, not at all,” he agreed while shaking his head. “I mean, I don’t even know of any babysitters as glamourous as you.”

Anya smirked before her lips turned into a genuine smile as she patted his back supportively.

“It’s a shame…” He drifted while seemingly in thought.

“What is?”

Not expecting her to acknowledge his comment, Gram took a second to reply after glancing to her. “Oh, I just wish we could spend another week in London. Since this place is always a ball,” he revealed tranquilly.

Anya nodded. “I don’t know. Sometimes you lose the appeal of something if there’s too much time spent with it,” she considered, mentally thinking of her own reasons for preferring California these days.

“Yeah. I guess you’re right…” He lingered as he winked back to his date across the room.

“Who’s the lady?” She suddenly asked.

“Huh?” He brought his attention back to Anya. “Oh, do you not know Marie?” 

She shook her head.

“Well, we must remedy that right away!” He declared and wrapped his arm around her to lead her to ‘Marie’ and Keith, with no exceptions from the Byrd wife.

The final day of the London visit ended fairly well with all the event performances and the Byrds fitting right in with their English peers. Most notably, Jim and Gram didn’t come off as aloof around each other on stage anymore and the band gave the impression they were actually on the same page from the audiences’ view. The lack of tension from the usually moody band members was a relief for the secretary and made the end of the day more peaceful. Chris and Anya completed the last night in England by making love back at the hotel, with the vibe almost ruined for Anya when Chris brought up post-coitus how they hadn’t stopped by her family’s place. 

“Finding it hard to believe there wasn’t a single free moment between our schedule and your parents’ own plans,” he nudged playfully right before his lips found the spot between her neck and shoulder.

Anya successfully didn’t tense up from the comment, but mostly because of how nice it felt to be in Chris’ arms. His chest was currently against her back as they laid on their sides. “Well, you both have unconventional lifestyles. There was a chance of it not matching up,” she tried to insist nonchalantly as she took a sharp intake of breath when she felt his hand under her breast.

He smirked and raised his head to kiss right below her ear. “Even with that two hour lunch brea—”

“You know,” she interrupted and wiggled in his arms so her body could face him. “Parents aren’t particularly the sexiest topic for pillow talk,” she cheekily hinted before sucking near his Adam’s apple. She felt him exhale and smiled with a kiss on the tip of his jaw.

“No argument there…” He agreed almost breathlessly as she pressed her body to his with an extra deep kiss on his lips.

After successfully seducing away the subject of her family, Anya woke up the next morning early and chose to get dressed to order a cup of tea downstairs on the first floor café while Chris took his time sleeping before another day of flying. When she made it to the café, she found Carlos was already there and ordered a coffee. Pleasantly surprised to see a friend she could enjoy the beverage with instead of by herself, the two sat and chatted for a little over 45 minutes before heading back upstairs where the rest of the band crew was about to vacate. The native Brit was now glad she and Chris chose to pack most of their bags before getting into bed last night. When Anya reached the door of the hotel room, she thought she heard a scuffle and something hitting a wall. Her brow creased while she opened the door and was greeted to a couch pillow thrown at the mini-bar. In the corner of the room near the window she found a broken vase, with a very hot-tempered Chris beyond it pacing back and forth.

“What’s going on?” She asked concerned after closing the door. “What happened?” 

“God damn inconsiderate asshole,” he mumbled angrily before grabbing the edge of the roundtable in between the bed and the TV. Her eyes widened as she instantly gripped his arm to try to hold him back.

“Chris!” She stressed louder and sternly. This time he broke his attention away from his tantrum to his wife. His face softened a little and his breathing stilled for a second before closing his eyes to breathe deeply through his nose. Until now, Anya almost forgot how heated Chris could get when he was upset. “What happened?” She tried again calmly. 

“Fucking Gram,” he muttered before releasing himself from her hands for some space. “He bailed on us! He’s gone!”

Anya stood blankly as she processed his statement. “What do you mean he’s gone?”

“I mean, he just told us right now he can’t perform in South Africa because of a supposed ‘moral conundrum’ over their racial standings and refuses to endorse a country with shameless bigotry,” he explained in a mad huff.

The young woman was silent as she mentally agreed with everything he just said. 

“What a crock of shit,” he vented more before noticing her lack of reaction. “Nice to see you’re taking this well…” He lingered sarcastically.

“Well…at least his intentions are honorable?” She attempted cautiously.

“Are you serious?”

“Chris, are you truly surprised someone is calling the band out on the Africa shows?” She asked now less hesitant. 

“If he cared so much about racial injustice, why did he play Ohio and Virginia? Or even England, just now? No country’s history is exempt from prejudice,” Chris argued annoyedly.

She sighed and pinched her brow at his stubbornness. “None of those regions are making headlines at the moment. Gram has a point. It’s in poor taste and makes the band look bad.”

“Oh my God, am I the only one who isn’t blind here?!” He exasperated with flailing arms. “He didn’t leave because of fucking racism, he left because he wants to stay in London and party with Keith!”

Knowing what she’s learned about Gram for the past five months, Anya wouldn’t doubt something that fleeting might be his reason for ditching the band. Especially since he was financially more stable than his musician peers. But she also knew Chris was presently being incredibly obtuse with bitterness. “Even if that is why he left, there’s not much you can do about it now, is there?”

Chris took a step forward and placed his hand on his hip. “Can you at least agree with me that he screwed us over? And how unprofessional it is to abandon your band mid-tour?”

“No,” she countered bluntly. “Because I agree. This tour was a terrible idea, and you all know it.”

Chris dropped his hands exaggeratedly. “So what are we supposed to do? Just disappoint the African fans who are decent people and want to see us play?”

“Oh, bollocks, as if that was the real reason you chose to play in the country,” Anya shot back now with her own edge. “The venues offered more money than any of the usual college campuses in the states,” she accused.

The bassist took a frustrated breath. “You know what, Anya. If this is really how you feel about us, why are you here?” He fired.

There was a pause with the secretary flabbergasted. “I’m here because you bloody asked me to be!”

Chris ran his hands through his hair and began pacing again.

Anya crossed her arms irritated. “I do technically have old friends in the city. If I wanted, I could easily call someone and spend the night with them while finding a way back to LA on my own,” she suggested as a bit of a warning.

“By all means,” he said flippantly while motioning to the door.

“Superb,” she agreed just as curtly before turning away. “Enjoy your racist tour.”

“I think I will!” He shouted adamantly in defiance.

Anya rolled her eyes and walked to the door, but before she could open it, she speedily felt arms pulling her into a hug.

“No, wait, I don’t want you mad at me too,” Chris quickly stated with his tone completely switching to remorseful. “Anya…I just…” He lingered while rubbing her back soothingly, even though he was the more worked up between the two of them. Anya released a tired breath as she let her husband hold her for a few more seconds before raising her arms to return the embrace. “I’m at a loss on what to do anymore,” he confessed weakly before they separated.

“You and Jim are pretty smart,” she responded calmly. “I’m sure you can come up with something discreetly just like when you omitted Gram on the album.”

He sighed. “It’s not that simple when there’s literally three hours until the plane takes off…”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she thought about what the group could do. “Well, let’s thinks about this…surely one of the roadies knows how to strum a guitar?” She pondered. “What about Carlos?”

Chris internally considered Anya’s suggestion for another moment before stepping past her and leaving to walk a couple of rooms over. She heard a knock from the hall. 

“Hey, Carlos, man, do you have a few minutes…”


	12. Artificial Energy

Ch. 12: Artificial Energy

Durban, July 1968

The flight to South Africa was just as silent and tedious as Anya expected and not only because of leftover tension from her fight with Chris. The couple tried to put on a good face, and barely succeeded, but to practically no point. The 15 hour plane ride was proof how much the rest of the group resented Gram for dumping them out of the blue with their own grudges and stress filling the airplane. The drive from Johannesburg Int. Airport to the hotel in the city wasn’t much better, though for different reasons. SA radiated as a beautiful location visually, but there was a bizarre and surreal vibe to the atmosphere with sections of the route showing locals of multiple races, but never mixed together. Because she had already learned about the government’s current enforcement in the country, Anya was extra aware of how every employee who greeted the band and co. at the hotel was white. There were also strange and quirky things about the hotel building she noticed as they settled and became familiar with the new location. Such as how the interiors and exteriors were very attractive in an exotic, eastern style, but the hotel bedroom she and Chris entered didn’t have a TV and only a radio.

“Well…fortunately I brought extra novels for the trip.” Anya tried to sound somewhat optimistic as they dropped off their luggage in the room. 

The Byrds’ first gig was the following night, but not before a photo op of the band in the hotel courtyard; during which Anya stood by on the side and chatted with Jimmi and Carlos. The concert venue was impressive in both the size and production values regarding the staging and sound system. The soundcheck went swiftly all things considered. Carlos wasn’t much of a player even though he handled packing and setting up the instruments regularly. But he carried along fine with the rhythm, so the lack of Gram could have been a lot worse. Yet, once again, when the guys started playing to the audience it became very obvious, very fast how everyone in the seats was white with no other races present. There was a point during ‘You Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere,’ where Chris took a glimpse to Anya in the wings for a split second and found her with an expression that clearly said, “I told you so.”

Back at the hotel, Chris and Anya let off some steam by sharing a cigarette and glass of wine next to the pool. Chris was clearly conflicted and racked with guilt over how naïve the band was to think they would actually get mixed audiences at the shows. Anya ran her hand up his arm to console him and wondered how she and Gram were the only ones to see a problem with the touring line-up. She didn’t believe Jim was sketchy enough to rope his whole band into agreeing to this through lying. But she also had a hard time believing Miriam Makeba would give an okay to the shows with how hard the activist had been trying to fight against apartheid. Larry didn’t exactly hide the fact he enjoyed making money off a hit band, but she doubted he was this manipulative either. Once she stubbed out the cigarette on the ground, she suggested to Chris that they head up to bed. With the context of everything going on, neither were feeling particularly sexy so Anya would spend the most nights of the trip just holding Chris in bed while they slept. 

Two days later would be the beginning of the lowest point Anya would ever experience with the Byrds. The group had a small press conference at an auditorium beyond their hotel in Durban where foreign press and media outlets gathered around for information on their current tour and new album that had yet to be released. When a young female reporter straight forwardly prompted if the band members endorsed the country’s racial restrictions to play in the area, there was an uncomfortable pause. Eventually Jim leaned forward and mumbled into his microphone on the table: “No, of course not.” Immediately grunts and groans were heard and even the building staff threw some judgmental stink eyes their way. Anya’s shoulders tensed while her arms were crossed over her body and watched the locals in the room go from excited to have a hit American act in their country to suddenly offended. Even if some agreed with Jim’s statement, she could see how the guys also come off as hypocritical for choosing to perform all the same. Anya couldn’t help but grimace as the group’s faces looked like they had made the biggest mistake of their lives. 

“How dare you judge us! You’re a guest in this city!” A short, middle aged man with a thick accent chided Jim and Chris on the way out of building. Anya held the latter’s arm and lead him to a rented town car the crew had been using for the visit. The concert they played later that night was stiff and the awkwardness from the press conference and general environment vibrated on to the fans’ decreasing enjoyment of the performances.

By the sixth day in Durban, Anya found herself a nice, sunny afternoon at the hotel as Jim called for an impromptu meeting with Chris, Kevin and Carlos in his room. Through the downstairs hall, Anya strolled to the pool area with a paperback copy of John Updike’s **Couples** in her hand while walking next to a clear, glass wall. Out of nowhere she heard a sharp, crack on the large window. 

“AH!” She jumped and shrieked in shock. Her head turned to find broken eggshell and yolk on the glass. Catching her breath, she started to notice a body behind a round bush of a young man twice her size, tan and with bright blonde hair looking directly at her darkly. She sensed he likely knew she was with the band and word had gotten out already the Byrds didn’t support their country politically. Anya’s heart began to race as she rushed away from the wall window and back up to the floor the band and roadies were occupying. 

“Chris. You, Jim and Kevin need to get back to America _right now_ ,” she stressed and gripped his arms tightly as soon as she found him walking out of Jim’s room. When she told him about the window incident, he pulled her close.

“Yeah…might be kind of too late for that…” He confessed hesitantly while holding her.

“What are you talking about? Just cancel the shows and blame it on Gram,” she recommended while glancing up at him.

“I mean, I don’t think we want to piss off these people any more than we already have…” He suggested heavily. She sighed and closed her eyes. Chris then revealed he and Jim were all but given threats by two of the valet drivers by the entrance earlier that morning.

Anya and the rest of the guys chose not to drift far from the hotel and the venues for the rest of the visit, skipping any touristy city exploring they were thinking of in between concerts. Anya even took the bonus paranoia of preferring not to leave the hotel bedroom unless Chris or one of the other men were around to accompany her. It was three more, long, torturous days with some of the most forced enthusiasm and chemistry Anya had ever seen the group put on in concert when the venue obligations were completed. She didn’t miss how the crowds had gotten smaller by the final show either. The young wife’s relief from the Byrds’ bow at the end of the encore was short-lived though. Jimmi’s itinerary reminded her that they signed up for two extra performances in Rhodesia, and they had to make a detour up north for three more days before finally flying back to California. As far as Anya knew, even though the region was right next to South Africa, they didn’t share the same segregation laws. This should make the brief visit somewhat comfortable, but they were still foreigners far away in unfamiliar land. All she wanted to do was go home and feel safe again.

For the first night in the new location, the band and company had a lowkey dinner next to the motel they were staying in. Anya then suggested to Chris they take a hot bath in their motel bedroom. Though the idea felt nice in the moment, as soon as she was out of the tub and in her PJ tank top+shorts, her now common uneasiness was back. To try to clear her mind and get some fresh air, Anya walked around the balcony which went around the whole row of bedrooms. When she slowly made it back to her room, she saw Carlos exiting his own room next to hers and Chris.’

“Good evening, Carlos,” she greeted with a small smile as she took a couple more steps to be in front of him.

“Hi, Anya,” he responded also grinning and pausing his route.

“How are you holding up?” She asked friendly and crossed her arms when she felt a breeze. “I’m sure this isn’t how you imagined your big rockstar moment in your mind,” she wondered with a lopsided smile.

“Yeah, I could do without the glares and expletives,” he agreed cheekily.

“I’m sorry you got dragged into this,” she apologized softly. “I can assure Chris at least regrets all this,” she insisted. “I’m sure Jim does too.”

He nodded understandingly. “Hey, I’d rather be on the Byrds’ worst tour than back in SoCal working another high school gig,” he claimed lightly. 

She smiled again. “How are you with…the other road perks lacking currently?” She suddenly wondered since she could tell the groupie situation probably wasn’t as accessible since London. 

He released an amused chuckle at her innuendo. “You’re funny, Anya.”

Not really sure how to reply to his response, she just gave a nod and turned to enter the bedroom before he carried on his own way. 

While the concerts in Rhodesia weren’t as stressful as SA and—from Anya’s eyepoint—it looked like there was a fair share of variety of fans in the audiences; the guys now just came off tired and worn out on stage. Which is exactly what Jim told a journalist backstage the last show of the tour. When the band and the rest of the touring team were packed and leaving for the flight back to the US, Anya was practically pulling Chris onto the jet. 

High in the air and in the privacy of the mostly empty plane besides the group and crew, Anya held Chris’ hand comfortably on his thigh and let herself relax for the first time in over a week. In between drowsiness from restlessness, she would think about events from the past two months. From Gram leaving the band to how Larry and the guys were going to have to come up with some sort of public statement to explain their presence in South Africa eventually. Especially since Anya came across a review of one of the Byrds’ shows in a local newspaper while they were waiting for their flight which trashed both their playing and response to SA’s laws. She had to shake her head how Gram truly got off the hook this time. Looking up at Chris’ face while they were seated, Anya saw his eyes were closed but wasn’t sure if he was asleep. She leaned up to kiss his ear and a smile formed on his face. 

“This is either going to feel like the shortest or longest flight of all time,” he jested with his eyes still closed.

She smiled genuinely at how he seemed to be in a decent mood currently and turned her body to a better angle. “I think I speak for everyone when I say it will be good to be home again.”

He grinned back as he opened his eyes. “Yeah…You know, it’s funny…”

“What?” She asked when she noticed the thoughtful expression on him.

“Before everything imploded…I was going to suggest you and I break away from the rest of the group and stop by your family’s place before California.”

Anya didn’t verbally acknowledge the comment and instead squeezed his hand before laying back down in her seat.


	13. Don't Make Waves

Ch. 13: Don’t Make Waves

Laurel Canyon, August 1968

Despite returning to southern California unemployed, Anya didn’t rush to find new work right away. Instead she took an extra week off to recover from the exhaustion she felt from being witness to the disastrous Byrds tour. She had enough money in her account for the next few weeks and a letter she received in the mail from her former co-worker Becca wishing her well. The label employee also insisted everyone ‘in the office’ missed her which made Anya want to believe there was still a position open at Atlantic if she wanted to go back. The band members also took their time getting back into the swing of things in LA since ‘Sweetheart’ was dropping at the end of the month and they didn’t have any shows or TV appearances scheduled until September. Clarence was back in the group, but Jim and Chris wanted nothing to do with Gram even though they secretly agreed the Floridian had a point about South Africa. To make things more awkward, Clarence convinced Jim that Kevin wasn’t a skilled enough drummer for their most recent line-up, and they should recruit his friend and former Nashville West bandmate ironically named Gene Parsons. This left Chris with the unfortunate task of telling his own cousin the news.

When Anya wasn’t catching up on chores around the house or errands in town, she met with Gail at the public pool a couple of times and even had lunch with Dolores in the city. Chris and Anya also made room for a movie date to see the new romcom **With Six You Get Eggroll** one Friday, making it their first time in a movie theater since February. Despite his cool, aloof rockstar persona, Anya always thought it was rather adorable how old fashioned the musician could be on traditional nights out. In the bedroom, the couple didn’t have any issues making up nearly a whole week without sex either. There was a point where Anya almost had her first pregnancy scare since committing to Chris, but fortunately she was just five days late on her menstrual period. Which was a relief for multiple reasons.

Things seemed to be looking up again until one afternoon when Anya was driving home. She had just picked up a dry-cleaning order downtown and noticed a BMW roaming behind her once she entered the residential community. But she didn’t think much of it at first, since there was only one long, winding road to get through the neighborhood and the driver could be visiting someone on her street or live close. She parked her Mustang on the driveway in front of the garage and went to enter the house with the clean clothes before she realized she forgot to grab a pair of Chris’ nicer pants to drop off too.

“Ah, shite,” Anya mumbled and stomped her foot in annoyance. Only a second later she heard a shuffle that she sensed was by a small tree grown in between Chris’ house and the next-door neighbor’s. When she turned her head toward the tree, she thought she saw movement behind the body of oak. She placed the wrapped clothes and her purse on her car and cautiously moved where there was an ominous shadow reflected on the grass yard. When she finally stepped around the tree, she found someone she hadn’t spoken to in a rather long time.

“…Brian?”

The respected Beach Boy was in front of her in white tennis shoes, soft, blue lounge pants and a red T-shirt, contrasting her black flats, dark capri pants and short-sleeved pink blouse. He was expressionless and frozen in place. There was a ten second moment of silence before Anya broke it.

“What are you doing here?” She asked openly.

“Anya…” His voice lingered as if it was the first word he had uttered all day.

She took a step forward and instantly felt his hand grip her forearm. Her brows crinkled. “Are you alright? What’s going on?” 

“Anya, don’t leave me,” Brian suddenly stressed in a hushed tone.

She paused again, not sure how to get a handle on her once close friend’s behavior. “How did you know where I live?” Back when she was much more familiar with the Beach Boys, Anya always mingled with Brian in public places, backstage and at the recording sessions. She hadn’t given him her home address, though he knew her phone number. But both of those options were now obsolete. 

“Gary told me,” he answered plainly. Anya rolled her eyes at her own question, now remembering both groups did have a lot of the same connections in their circles. And if she recalled correctly, Chris was one of the first popular musicians to move into Laurel Canyon, so naturally he got a lot of visitors early on.

“Brian, I’m not trying to sound short or rude, but your reactions are a bit…concerning,” she tried carefully. “We haven’t socialized in two years. What brought this on?”

He appeared as if he was about to speak, but then his face turned troubled and he pulled her into a tight hug. She gasped in surprise with her arms landing around his body. 

“I don’t feel safe,” he continued in a worried tone. “I always felt good around you.”

Anya slowly separated from the producer-songwriter, but kept her hands on his upper arms supportively. “You don’t feel safe at home? With Marilyn?” She asked referencing his wife with one brow arched skeptically. “Or your daughter? Or at either of your brothers’ houses?”

He didn’t take up any of her instigating and instead chose to just gaze at her face in a trance. Anya wasn’t any less concerned and wanted to learn more about his out of the blue appearance. But suddenly they heard a door opening and turned to find Chris peeping outside as if he heard a disturbance. When he saw Anya with her arms holding Brian, his face was mildly curious until he noticed the state of the fellow music artist’s mood and his expression switched to worried. 

“Hey, bud…” Chris began while cautiously walking to the pair. “How’s it going?” He asked mostly rhetorically.

“I think he’s having…” Anya was going to end her sentence wondering if Brian was in the middle of an ‘episode,’ but realized that wouldn’t exactly be the most tactful phrasing. 

“Should we go inside?” The curly haired music star offered a little awkwardly. 

“Anya, I want to talk to only you,” Brian revealed not acknowledging Chris’ offers.

There was another uncomfortable beat before the brunette attempted to resolve the dilemma. “Alright, let’s chat inside the house—the three of us in the house,” she emphasized to include Chris. “Does that sound alright to you, Brian?”

Chris silently viewed the exchanges from the side, unsure of how to treat the interplay from the two supposed friends.

“I don’t know…I don’t know,” he muttered and released himself from her to pace back and forth.

Anya bit the side of her lip before carefully taking a step forward and gently grabbing his wrist to make him stand still. “Brian, luv,” she tried soothingly, but immediately regretted the intimate endearment with Chris present. “We want to help,” she repeated and linked her arm around his to lead him toward the residence. But he just responded by abruptly pulling her into another tight hug and closing his eyes. 

“Brian!” She exclaimed in shock.

“Hey, Brian, come on,” she heard Chris interject a bit perturbed.

Anya removed the sandy-haired young man’s arms from her more forcefully this time. 

“I don’t want to go,” he said in distress again with pleading eyes. “I want to stay here with you.”

She was puzzled. “You don’t want to just walk into the hous—?”

“No, I want to stay here,” he reiterated. “I just want us to talk how we used to. About your co-workers at Atlantic. Or how you used to josh on Dennis and Mike for making bets on who bagged the most chicks. And how you thought I should be more regarded form my bass playing and how I didn’t need Carol for ‘Pet Sounds,’” Brian concluded rather lucidly. 

Anya was a bit caught off guard by the detailed memory of some topics they might have gone over when they regularly saw each other. After a couple of seconds of pondering what to do, she glanced over to Chris. “Could you give us a few minutes, Chris?” She asked with an apologetic, weak grin.

The rockstar was mystified by the current interactions, but begrudgingly acquiesced. “Sure…” He drifted skeptically before entering the house again, though with a couple of glimpses back to the pair. When Anya could see he had made it into the house she put her full attention to Brian. 

“Alright, Brian. Now what would you like to discuss that we can’t cover in front of my husband?” She asked as neutrally as possible.

The musician smiled as he became transfixed with her appearance again and raised his hand to run his fingers through her hair.

“Stop,” Anya pressed instantly and swiped his hand away. 

“God, I’ve missed you,” he breathed and put his arms around her again.

“Brian, you must be aware this isn’t appropriate anymore,” she stressed calmly and wiggled out of his arms. “I’m married now and you have a family. Which you’ve always had.”

He ignored her logical points. “I know perfectly well I’m not where I should be,” he quoted with a snort. Anya titled her head bewildered at the reference to his own song, ‘You Still Believe in Me.’

“Should I drive you home? I don’t know if you should be driving in your current state…” She offered with concern. 

“How would you get back if we take my car?” He asked.

“I could just call Gail,” she answered.

Brian laughed. “I don’t remember Gail ever being super reliable.”

She sighed. “Or I can call Chris or someone else in town,” she offered to fruitless effect as he insisted there was nothing wrong with his driving while they continued to speak. It was a half hour of Anya and Brian having a very sporadic, multi-topic conversation in between the driveway and the grass until the former secretary was convinced the songwriter was coherent enough to leave on his own. She kept his mood afloat with familiar subjects she remembered Brian enjoyed, plus occasionally reassured him everything was fine to ease his paranoia. Already quickly drawn into the random reunion, Anya naturally gave him a warm hug while saying goodbye and ran a hand up his back assuredly. She urged him to drive home right away before he took a seat in his car and turned on the engine. They waved and then she watched his car leave her street until it was out of sight. Grabbing the dry-cleaning she left on top of her car, she finally made it inside the hip styled house. Anya let out a big breath as she closed the front door and went straight to the main bedroom to hang the clothes. When she took off her shoes and left her purse on the nightstand, she moved to the mail basket next to the front door for something to do. A couple of minutes passed until she heard Chris enter the room. He stopped in front of her and leaned on the little table the basket usually sat on. 

“Why did he come over here?” He broke the silence with.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” she answered still differentiating the personal letters from the ads and not looking at him. 

“For some reason I thought you guys didn’t hang out anymore.”

“Your assumption is correct.”

Chris leaned off the table with one hand to face her. “You know, I never really got…what you two were before we met,” he insinuated vaguely.

“I’ve told you many times we were close friends,” she replied simply.

“But if you were freaking out as much as he was just now, would you rush over to an ‘old friend’s house?” He asked.

“He’s clearly not well,” Anya responded still calm.

Chris wasn’t any more convinced. “Yeah, but even before he became a walking anti-drug slogan, you used to hype him up pretty highly…”

“He is talented. Everyone knows that,” she carried on non-plussed and set all the junk mail on the table.

“I guess…” He lingered still skeptical. 

Anya finally put the basket down and properly turned to him with a hand on her hip. “If you don’t believe me, then I’m not sure what to tell you.”

Chris just stood with barely any reaction.

“What was I supposed to do out there?” She vented with an arm pointing in the general direction of the driveway. “Just leave him there and call the police? You know he’s harmless and only having a hard time.”

“No, actually, I don’t know that,” he countered shortly. “Because I haven’t spoken to Brian in years and have no idea what his life is like these days.”

“Well, he is,” she confirmed simply and left to pour herself a glass of water in the kitchen.

Chris followed her over to the other side of the house. “You sound pretty confident with that opinion just based on old memories,” he noted while leaning on the entrance frame.

“Wouldn’t you with a good friend?” She asked as she turned off the tap above the sink once her cup was filled and took a sip.

“Perhaps, but he was practically clinging on to you,” he pointed out forthrightly.

“Paranoia, stress. I don’t know what else,” she argued and was surprising even herself with how much she was defending the popstar. “You know he preferred to be a studio rat in the early days and hated public appearances.” When Anya turned to him, she found his face back to suspicious. 

“Why are you acting so defensive?” He carried further.

“I’m not,” she claimed before placing the cup on the counter. She really didn’t know why she was all of a sudden, other than she used to be semi-protective of Brian whenever she heard any kind of criticism regarding him. In retrospect, that was rather blatant for someone supposedly platonic. But she never doubted their secret feelings for each other either. “You certainly don’t have anything to be concerned about.”

“I should hope not,” Chris agreed.

“Good, because it would be ridiculous to assume otherwise,” she assured strongly. “You see me every day, and Brian and I have never been intimate, before or after you and I got together.”

“Uh huh…” He decided to tag along with his mouth scrunching sideways.

“He’s an exceptional individual,” she continued. “And wonderful company.”

The casual tone of the compliment set something off for Chris’ eyes to shoot back to her. “Right. But even if you don’t physically fuck Brian, I don’t think Marilyn would appreciate her husband imagining another woman.”

Within a millisecond, Anya’s right hand landed across Chris’ face with a hard enough slap for him take a step back in surprise. He made a hiss sound cupping his cheek and mumbled a curse word as she stormed out of the kitchen to the bedroom in a huff. She slammed the door shut and gripped her hair with her eyes closed in frustration. Only a moment later the bedroom phone started ringing. Anya rushed over to the nightstand and roughly picked up the receiver irritated.

“What?” She asked put-out rather than use the formal ‘hello.’

“Are you bloody mad?” 

Oh, great. The Englishwoman groaned as she recognized her father’s voice on the other end. “How did you get this number?”

“Your mother shares everything with me—”

“Oh, right,” she remembered sheepishly how she actually does give new phone numbers and addresses to her mum in case of emergency. She was really off her game today.

“Anya, you can’t just ignore us for months on end and then take money out of the account whenever you—” 

“How bored were you to actually find a withdrawal that small from the bank?” She asked sarcastically, still ticked off from her chat with Chris.

“Anya, I’m serious this time, I can cut you off—”

“Fine, go ahead,” she agreed adamantly. “What do I care? I have my own income now,” she claimed momentarily forgetting she presently didn’t have a job.

“Your recklessness has gone too far with all this. It’s unbecoming—”

“Oh, sod off,” she suddenly shot back and slammed the phone back on its base. “Ugh!” She groaned before collapsing on the bed and screaming into one of the pillows.


	14. The Lord's Burning Rain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I somehow completely forgot while writing this story Frank Zappa was famously anti-drugs, so use your suspension of disbelief with the Gail bit near the end of this chapter, heh.

Ch. 14: The Lord’s Burning Rain

Laurel Canyon, August 1968

The misfortune of yesterday didn’t end any less awkwardly than it began after Anya arrived home, with both her and Chris going out of their way to not acknowledge each other. The brunette even went to bed alone, making her wonder if he just fell asleep on the couch or actually left for a friend’s place. When she woke up and walked downstairs to make some tea, she found Chris returned and in a fresh pair of clothes while using the coffeemaker. She stood silently until he noticed her presence and paused his activity. There was another uncomfortable moment until Chris apologized for his crass comment with direct eye contact and his voice sounding genuinely regretful. Anya accepted the apology with a nod and offered the same sentiment. Even though she was still a little upset (her phone call with her father not withstanding), she did regret harming him. Especially since she could see a faint pink shade on his left cheek. Things gradually felt normal again by nighttime, though attentively. 

But unfortunately, the peacefulness was limited once again, as only three days later Chris burst through the house from the garage clearly in a bad mood. Anya looked up from her spot at the dining room table where she was currently using to organize a set of job applications and interviews. “What’s the matter?” She asked concerned.

“We need to sack Larry,” he announced while tossing his jacket on the couch on the other side of the room. 

Her brow creased. “What? How come?” She continued, though could probably also guess what the reason was. Which would be disappointing if true.

“He’s been taking way more than his share of the residuals from the tours and record sales,” he revealed and headed over to where she was sitting. “Remember when you asked me if I missed a deposit? Well, you can credit Larry for that,” he concluded as he collapsed on a chair next to Anya. “What a pain in the ass.”

She gave him an understanding smile and squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry, love. It’s a big problem in the industry, sadly.”

“Yeah. No wonder he was chummy with Dave and Gram either,” Chris tossed.

She put her pen down in her planner. “Well, I think that might just be coincidence. I doubt David had any intention of sabotaging himself since he got Larry on board before you and Jim kicked him out,” she theorized.

“Mmm, still doesn’t bode well for their judge of character,” he considered while leaning back in his seat more comfortably before running his hand over his face. “Why does crap like this keep happening to us? I was already in a number of other groups down south and none of them had any kind of drama.”

“Yes, darling, but you didn’t make any money with those bands,” Anya reminded cheekily. “Would you really want to leave and start over?”

“Eh…” Chris pondered the option. “I’ve thought about it once in a while, if I’m being completely honest. I mean, can you really even call us ‘the Byrds’ if there are only two original members?”

“You have a point,” she agreed while capping her pen. “What about Jim though?”

“Oh, Roger would be fine,” he said confidently. “He was already two steps ahead of us with experience before the band formed anyway.”

“Well, I’m sure whatever happens for you musically in the future will be substantial,” Anya predicted. “And now you know to dodge managers like Larry.”

“Yeah…” Chris drifted remembering how the conversation started. “I’m surprised you didn’t catch on to that sooner, actually.”

“Oh? Why do you say that?” She asked interested as she scooted closer to the table to rest on her arms. “I rarely conversed with Larry.”

“Well, you started your career as Kit’s assistant…” 

“Yes…” She didn’t get the correlation, especially since she trusted Kit.

“I was just thinking of how you might have had more exposure to other hit band managers,” he explained. “Since you mentioned knowing they’re a problem.”

“Oh…That is true, I suppose,” she concurred only now realizing the connection. “But I didn’t know them personally like I did Kit. I was mostly aware of those rumors and secrets from word of mouth.”

The musician nodded understanding. “How did you and Kit deal with the Who’s finances?”

“Oh, I…didn’t have to work on any of that,” she confessed sheepishly, also just noticing this was out of ordinary for the position.

“Really?” Chris asked in disbelief. “Isn’t that part of the job?”

“Well…Not necessarily…Kit often went to Chris Stamp’s financial advisor for money related things,” she explained carefully. “I always assumed he was being tactful not including me in that…” She lingered while reminiscing about her early secretary days for the first time in ages.

He leaned forward to play with her pen. “Sounds like a pretty breezy gig.”

“I don’t know about that,” she corrected seriously. “There are quite a lot of roles an assistant has to take on. Organizing, planning, phone calls, reminders…There was a point when Track first opened where I was the only woman in the offices.”

“True,” Chris agreed simply. “So you never got any kind of impression Kit might be ripping off the band?” He asked frankly.

“No!” Anya defended without thought. “I’ve known Kit very well for a long time. I think I would sense a peculiarity if he was sneaking around something like that,” she claimed. Though she was mentally feeling a tad naïve the concept had never crossed her mind in the past. Chalk it up to her being so young when they first met.

“If you say so,” he concluded passively and dropped the pen on the table to stand up, still bummed from his recent news. “I think I’m gonna ride around the neighborhood for the rest of the afternoon.”

She watched Chris leave the room toward the garage again for his motorcycle without verbally responding. There was a strange mood to how their chat ended that Anya couldn’t quite place. Rather than go back to her notes and look through her contact book for whom she could touch base with for some new job connections, she stood up as well. She thought a small break walking around the backyard might help clear her mind and ease the atmosphere. When she strolled to the backdoor, her eyes landed on the window next to the patio and did a small double-take when she thought she saw a body laid on the hammock. She squinted and arched her body to get a better view of the corner after walking in front of the window. There appeared to be a teenage girl asleep in a disheveled top and short skirt, sleep ridden blonde hair and eye make-up messy from what looked like her hand rubbing it. As if she sensed someone was watching her, the girl—who Anya realized was Pamela, one of the GTOs—awoke with a yawn and rubbed her eye shadow mussed eye. When Pamela found Anya looking at her from the window, there was five seconds of neither young woman moving until Anya raised an eyebrow. Another moment went by with Pamela frozen on the hammock before she leapt off the furniture and sprinted through the backyard to around the house. Anya went to the backdoor and walked through the yard to see the groupie running down the street.

****

Hollywood, September 1968

Anya really was not happy with how things were going with her and Chris since last summer. No matter how much they tried to move on and enjoy life, something would continually cause the couple to quarrel or disagree. She could tolerate it through late August and early September, but the arguing hit a peak one early evening mid-month. Anya was hanging around while the band was rehearsing on stage the Whisky with hardly any customers present when Chris thought it was a good time to bring up her family. 

“Chris, are you ever going to let this go already?” she stressed tiredly as she rushed backstage away from the rest of the musicians.

“No, I’m not,” he held firmly while following her to the private lounge. “Because this is ridiculous by now. You know, at first I thought you trying to keep me a secret was amusing since I’m technically famous, but this isn’t normal.”

“A lot of people aren’t close with their parents,” she argued while stopping next to the restrooms. 

“Yeah, and that’s a problem we can work out together,” he offered sincerely. “You don’t want to have personal baggage involving family forever, believe me,” he insisted clearly from experience.

She lazily placed an arm on the wall for support. “I’ve already told you everything there is to know about them. They’re really not worth it—”

“Sure, but now I’m starting to think they might not even be the problem and you’re the one projecting,” he suddenly interrupted.

She snorted and turned to move to the couch in the back of the room.

“What if we have kids?” Chris continued as he walked behind her. “How are you going to explain to them they only have one grandparent?”

“You don’t want kids,” Anya stated confidently.

“Oh, I don’t?” He asked rhetorically with an edge.

“No one wants kids at 23,” she claimed while stopping in front of the sofa and barely realizing Carlos was already sitting on it.

He huffed with a sarcastic smile. “And you know that how?”

“I didn’t want kids when I was 23,” she assured shortly. 

The star placed both hands on his waist irritated. “Well good to know you know everything about everyone in the world,” he retorted sardonically before noticing the dark-haired roadie was in the room. “Carlos, have you ever thought about having kids?”

The peer paused from grabbing a joint out of his jacket pocket, obviously not expecting to be included in the discussion. “Uh—”

“Don’t answer that, Carlos,” Anya requested and took a couple steps away from the couch. “How exactly are you picturing us as parents in your mind? You’re out of town for half of the year as it is, and I’ve already told you I have no interest in being a housewife.”

“A lot of guys take their families on the road—”

“I’m not doing that either. It’s a hassle with schooling and we would all wear each other out,” she insisted.

Chris threw up a hand animatedly. “Okay, I would call you every single night then—”

“Perfect. With all the women throwing themselves at you, I’m sure you’ll remember us,” she theorized dryly as if they already had their own family.

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic. That’s an exaggeration—”

“Please. Pamela’s practically waiting to jump into your lap once you’re off stage,” she accused while crossing her arms.

“Well, this is one reason I think it’s a good idea for you to travel with us,” he reminded.

“Oh, do not put that responsibility on me,” she exasperated sternly.

He let out a frustrated breath. “I meant to make me seem less appealing to the groupies and fangirls. Jesus, give me some credit, Anya.”

“Well, can you blame me for being cynical?” She asked offhandedly.

“Uh, yes? We share the same bed every night,” he pointed out. “Not everything has to be a big dilemma.”

“It doesn’t matter. There’s always going to be more temptation with you always out of the house and surrounded by promiscuous women. That’s how it is in this business.” She kept her stance stubbornly. “We’re never going to have ordinary lifestyles.”

There was a moment before Chris inferred: “Anya, why did you marry me if you have this little faith in us?”

The question made Anya feel like a stranger in her own body. She’s never had this kind of pessimism with her feelings for Chris before. Her issues with her family had nothing to do with their relationship. She trusted him and didn’t used to have any suspicion about his intentions away from home. She didn’t actually believe the GTOs were intriguing enough for him to be interested in one of them all the time. Sure, she never really had maternal instincts, but she also couldn’t see into the future where their marriage would be years from now either. What was she doing? 

Rather than clarify or apologize, Anya heard Jim’s familiar Rickenbacker begin to play softly in the other room. She suggested distantly: “I can hear Jim tuning his guitar. You should probably get back out there.”

Chris sighed and left the room shaking his head disappointedly. Anya released her own breath and ran a hand through her brown hair overwhelmed with how the conversation just went. When she turned around, she found Carlos was actually still on the couch and had lit up the joint. Rather than grab a cigarette from her purse, now in the mood for one, she stepped in front of the roadie.

“Would you mind if I try some of that?” Anya asked, but didn’t wait for a reply and took the object from his fingers. Carlos raised his head in surprise, either at her question, the directness or both. She inhaled deep with the first drag, which probably wasn’t a good idea for someone who doesn’t smoke weed regularly.

“Um, no, go ahead…” He drifted as the motion occurred. 

Anya closed her eyes as she remembered to slowly exhale for the high hit her smoother. She leaned her hip on the armrest and kept her eyes closed as she let the substance fill her.

“I thought Chris mentioned you didn’t toke—”

“I don’t,” she suddenly agreed and opened her eyes to find a confused expression on Carlos’ face. She took an extra breath before another, slow drag. The young man continued to sit still, unsure what to do. Anya took an abrupt step forward when her head finally got the effect of the illicit drug and dropped her hand on the armrest for support. Carlos instantly leaned forward as if ready to aid if she fell. She stayed put as she just felt the high in the moment. “It’s good…” She commented as she took a seat next to him and then took a third hit.

“Yeah, Jimmi’s guy usually has the best stuff,” he said as she scooted to make room for her on the couch. “I think this is a fresh strain.”

Anya nodded slowly as she released the smoke away from his direction. 

“So what’s your poison usually?” He asked as he rest his arm on the back of the couch to get comfortable. “I notice you tend to stick to wine after the shows.”

“Yes,” she concurred. “Or a cocktail,” she added with another drag before realizing she was presently hogging the substance and held it out for him. “With a cigarette,” she concluded while he took back the joint.

He took an easy hit from the weed with a nod. “I get it. I can be a bit old school myself. Sometimes you just feel the need for a beer and a cig.”

She nodded passively while he took another quick drag before offering it to her again. She accepted with a lazy smile. The two spent the rest of the band’s rehearsal—which Anya guessed was roughly another hour—chatting and finishing the weed. The anxiousness from her argument with Chris was quickly disappearing, and she found herself responding to Carlos gigglier and more talkative than usual from the mellowness of the high. The sporadic hang-out reminded Anya of how nice it was to have a friend without any baggage or drama. She was so tranquil throughout the small talk that she barely noticed her hand would occasionally land on his knee or shoulder when she either replied or laughed to something semi-amusing he would jest. By the time the pair finished the joint, they were stoned enough to still enjoy the aftereffects. Anya in particular was appreciating her first drug-induced intoxication in years. Though she was fairly out of it, she could still compute things happening around them and noticed the band had finished playing.

“Oh, the music stopped—”

She announced after a delayed reaction with her body shooting up from the couch. But only a moment later she lost her equilibrium from the high and instantly fell on to Carlos’ lap. They both chuckled at the incident, with Anya’s hands on his shoulders as she practically wheezed out a giggle. 

“Here, let me help you,” he offered and placed his hands on her waist to set her down next to him, though still closer than was probably appropriate. A blissful sigh escaped her mouth with a smile as her hand rested on his arm.

“Oh, Carlos. Why aren’t other roadies as kind as you?” She suddenly asked mostly rhetorically. “Most of them are wankers and even bigger sex fiends than the musicians.”

He just shrugged sheepishly, obviously not sure how to take the blunt compliment.

“It’s so hard to find someone completely authentic in this business,” Anya continued as her hand crept up to play with his shirt collar. “I mean that in the best way, of course.”

Carlos carefully released her hand from his clothes, though their fingers seemed to intertwine as hers fell. She leaned forward as if she just noticed something on his face. He leaned back as an instinct. “Your eyes are red,” she noted simply.

He chuckled amusedly. “Yeah, that happens often when you smoke.”

She leaned a little closer. “How red are my eyes?”

“Uh…” He began with a cautious grin. “Pretty red.”

It wasn’t until she went to raise her hands that she noticed Carlos’ own hand was still in her left one. They both looked at their grasped hands for a long moment before Anya let go. When she glanced up to his face she couldn’t read the expression. “I…” An extra kick of euphoria from the high hit her and something else she had trouble placing. “Sort of…” The Brit muttered incoherently before her mouth suddenly landed on his. Carlos’ lips didn’t react to the motion, but hers did and she immediately scooted forward for a better angle with her eyes closed. It wasn’t until she let out an audible sigh that she felt him respond to the kiss with his lips and wrapped his arms around her. Anya placed her hands on his shoulders as she felt their legs touch from sitting so close. She was so caught up in the weed influenced intimacy, she didn’t think about how their current activity was infidelity or how her husband was only one room over. When their mouths separated, her eyes were still shut and she heard Carlos exhale shakily. Anya leaned forward for another kiss, this time moving her hand up to his neck while she felt one of his hands trail down to her waist as their lips touched. She moaned when his hand stopped just above her rear and then wrapped her arms around his back properly. 

“Aun, I think we’re going to hop across the street for a bite—”

Reality rushed back to Anya’s senses with her lips leaving Carlos’ when she heard Chris’ voice enter the room. But because of her current state of mind, the rest of her body was slow to respond to the interruption and she clumsily fell to her knees. Her arms landed across Carlos’ lap who was apparently stuck in place. “Oh, God—”

“The hell is this?” Chris exclaimed unexpectedly and clearly upset by the display in front of him.

Anya raised her head to find the songwriter next to the backstage entrance with a mix of shock and anger. “Wait, Chris,” she breathed anxiously as she sloppily stood up away from Carlos. 

“You’re a piece of work, you know that?” The musician shot before turning to leave in a fury.

She hastily went to follow him, with her high now vanishing from her system, but still managed to trip over her own foot as he left the corner. “Chris!” Anya shouted uselessly while falling to the ground. Once she was on her feet again she hurried to catch him, but to no avail. When she made it to the stage she only found Clarence and Gene left chatting. She walked back to the lounge and saw Carlos discreetly trying to leave the room. They both paused, unsure of how to acknowledge what just happened. After an unspoken, awkward moment, Anya just grabbed her purse from the coat rack and left without saying anything.

The brunette searched all over the club for Chris, but he was nowhere to be found. Her heart began to race nervously. One from how she just let herself act like a jerk by getting stoned with Carlos and kissing him. And two because, naturally, her husband just witnessed it. There was also the problem that they showed up together, and if he left, she didn’t have a ride back to the house. Eventually she ventured over to the Whisky’s manager’s office and asked to borrow the phone. Anya didn’t feel like asking Clarence or Gene for a ride home, since she didn’t want to explain her predicament, and she definitely wasn’t going to ask Carlos. She took a step forward with an appreciative grin to the manager’s desk and picked up the phone as the man walked aside for her to use the device. Anya felt her stomach drop as she dialed her best friend’s home number into the base of the phone. She was regretting every decision she made tonight and wished she could go back in time to stop herself. Everything from kissing Carlos to smoking the joint to taking the bait for another quarrel with Chris. When Gail finally answered on the other end, her voice also sounded rather giggly. Anya sighed and hoped the substance she was most likely enjoying didn’t block her judgment. She gave the young mother a vague explanation of why she needed someone to pick her up and wished the fellow rock wife could successfully drive over relatively quickly. 

Anya spent what felt like another half hour waiting outside the club for Gail, and was now very glad she kept a spare key to the house in her bag at all times. She was also surprised, and maybe a little impressed, she made Chris mad enough to leave her at the club. Anya knew she deserved it, but it was still a shock he actually did it. Though she considered he probably wouldn’t have done that if she didn’t already know so many people in the city. Once it felt longer than it should have been for Gail to drive from the Canyons over to Hollywood, Anya began looking around the street to see if someone she knew might be around by chance. When her eyes zoned in on across the street, she saw someone in front of a bar actually motioning her way. She quickly realized it was Gene waving for her to come over. She nodded and waved before heading to the end of the street to walk across during a red light. When she made it to in front of the bar, the drummer was still waiting for her contently with a cigarette. 

“Hey,” he greeted pleasantly.

“Hello, Gene,” she replied while crossing her arms over her front coolly. 

There was another calm second between them before Gene informed: “Chris isn’t here. But I don’t mind ditching Clarence if you need a ride back home,” he offered in his distinct Valley dialect before taking a drag.

“Oh, no. Don’t let me be a burden for the rest of your night,” Anya insisted with a quick shake of her head.

“You sure?” He asked keeping the offer open.

She was about to nod, but instead released a subtle breath. “No. I would appreciate the ride, to be frank,” she relented quietly.

He smiled before stubbing out his cigarette on the ground. She followed him to his car behind the bar, feeling ridiculous and like she was stood up by a blind date. The ride to the house was decent enough, with Gene trying to make light of the current situation by cracking jokes or share interesting anecdotes from his own life. Anya only grinned or nodded in response, mostly because she couldn’t keep her mind straight. When they made it to her street, she thanked Chris’ bandmate genuinely and stepped out of the car once he was temporarily parked. The two-story house was dark when she entered and convinced her the bassist still hadn’t returned either. Anya sighed tiredly as she walked through the residence and turned on the lights before getting into pajamas. She was in the middle of moving toward the kitchen to make something for dinner and wondering how long it was going to take for her to fix everything from today; when she heard the phone ring. She zoomed to the device and shot the receiver up to her ear. “Chris? Hello?”

“Anya!” She heard her best friend exclaim on the other end.

“Gail, where the hell have you been?” She asked exasperated. 

“What do you mean?” The former model asked perplexed with a giddy tone.

“I had to ask for a ride from one of Chris’ bandmates because you didn’t show up to drive me home,” Anya revealed straight-forwardly and hoping for an explanation.

There was a long pause. “Oh…yeah…I was gonna do that…”


	15. Here Without You

Ch. 15: Here Without You

Los Angeles, September 1968

Chris still wasn’t to be found when Anya woke up the next morning to an empty, eerily quiet house. She spent the rest of the night at home restlessly making failed attempts to read, watch the TV and listen to the radio before eventually settling in bed at 12:30 AM. Her eyes would repeatedly gaze to the front door when she was in living room or to the bedroom door when she was in bed hoping he would enter. When she rose from the sheets a few minutes past 8:00 AM, she couldn’t tell if anything was disheveled or out of ordinary around the bedroom or the rest of the house to see if he had stopped by at any point while she slept. She disappointedly went to the kitchen to make an omelet, a piece of toast and some coffee, feeling in the mood for something a bit stronger than tea this morning. After eating her breakfast and mostly moping around downstairs with her cup of coffee, Anya took out the contact book Chris usually kept on the bookshelf in the study. She went to the phone to call a few of his friends to see if they might know where he was. 

“I don’t know what I was thinking. It was the stupidest mistake I’ve ever made in my life,” she stated somberly into the phone. When there wasn’t a response she continued speaking. “I just wish I knew where he was.” More silence. “Jim?” She asked to make sure he was still on the other line. “…Roger?” She tried again with his now more common name.

“I’m not sure either,” she heard him reply. “I’m having trouble getting a hold of him myself.”

She sighed with even more regret and placed her hand over her face. “I’m so sorry, Jim. I didn’t think this would affect you too. Especially so soon.”

“Don’t be,” he insisted calmly. “Things haven’t been too hot with us either before last night. I think Chris’ eyes have been wandering elsewhere for a while anyway.”

That comment was mildly intriguing to Anya. Even though the couple had theoretically talked about what it would be like for Chris to join a new band, she didn’t think he was interested enough to actually browse for a new group. “Well…if you hear anything, please call me back,” she requested softly. 

“No problem, Anya,” he assured. “Try not to be too hard on yourself.”

She smiled while feeling her throat choke up from her eyes watering. “Take care,” she uttered before hanging up the phone. After letting herself have a good cry on the living room couch for the first time since her world turned upside down, Anya tried to pull herself together and not wallow in pity. She needed to find her husband and prove to him she made a terrible mistake and she truly does want to continue spending her life with him. She thought of who else she could try to contact, including Chris’ mother and siblings, but she would really rather not get any of his family involved in this. Eventually she got dressed around 11:15 AM, smoked a quick cigarette on the balcony and headed into town to see if he might be out in public again. An hour later she found herself at Columbia for the hell of it, where a front desk girl mentioned Clarence and Gene were around for a quick session gig. 

“You’re seriously telling me you have no idea where Chris went after the rehearsal?” She pressed as Clarence packed up his guitar since she found him right when the session was concluding.

“I don’t think he particularly wanted anyone to follow him at the time…” He suggested vaguely.

She sighed irritated. “Yes, I know. But surely you have some sense of where he could be? I’ve tried many places already and you’ve known him longer than I have.”

He shrugged while placing the headphones back in the stand next to his seat. “Maybe he crashed at Kevin’s.”

Anya doubted that. Even if the drummer left not on bad terms, it was still a sore subject considering the extra family connection. She tucked her hair behind her ears anxiously. “I guess I can try calling Kevin when I get back to the house. He has to be somewhere near. It’s not like he just left town overnight.”

“Eh, you never know.” The guitarist picked up a soda next to his guitar case he had been drinking during the session. 

She paused. “…What do you mean by that?”

“I mean, if I found my wife’s arms around someone else, I probably wouldn’t want to stick around either,” he clarified flatly before taking his final swig of soda.

She rolled her eyes on instinct before a wave of guilt hit her again. “What are you telling me? Chris found the closest tour he could get on as soon as possible?”

“He wouldn’t be the first,” Clarence claimed lightly taking a seat opposite her. “Strangers things have happened in Hollywood.”

“I hate this. I feel so alone. I have no one right now,” she dreaded while pacing the room. “Even my best friend couldn’t be there to help me.”

He nodded nonchalantly while tossing the empty bottle into the trash next to the wall. Anya turned to stop in front of him as she noticed his disinterest.

“What is this? Do I really deserve all this? Am I being punished by a higher being for taking drugs? For being a terrible daughter??” She ranted animatedly, now more angry than sad all of a sudden. 

Clarence chuckled. “Get a grip, Anya.”

The Englishwoman just looked at him disgruntled and at a loss on what else to do.

The shaggy haired musician laid back in his seat to look up at her properly. “You fucked up. Now you’ve got to live with it,” he informed coolly crossing his arms comfortably. “Sometimes shit happens you can’t control,” he continued. “I’ll tell you one thing though. Going around acting like you’re the victim isn’t going to win you any points.”

Anya stood still and let the brutal truth sink in. She did legitimately feel awful and regret her actions from the previous night. Especially after making such a big effort to not taint Brian’s marriage, now she just went and did the same to her own. She wanted nothing more than to move on from this and show Chris how much she loves him. She was above acting stubborn and careless. What would one visit to London cost them anyway? If her parents turned out to be snobs like she always saw them as, then so be it. At least they would have given it a try. She really was the root of her own problems. The young wife tightly shut her eyes in acceptance. “No. You’re right,” she admitted in a quiet breath while rubbing her forehead.

Clarence smiled easily before standing up, grabbing his guitar case and walking past her. “You might want to try Chris’ mom’s apartment if you haven’t already,” he added while halfway to the exit. She dropped her arms with an exhausted sigh and grabbed her bag from one of the chairs to leave the room herself. 

Rather than drive to Chris’ mother’s place, Anya just headed back home feeling much less motivated after her talk with Clarence. Though she did tell herself as she walked through the house to call Betty if she still hadn’t heard from Chris after dinner. But her mental note would be unnecessary, as only a couple minutes past 7:00 PM, the phone began ringing loudly through the house. Anya jumped up from the couch and turned off the record player spinning her copy of the OST of **The Graduate** she bought while downtown Santa Monica one Sunday with Chris. She rushed to the phone on the opposite side of the room. 

“Hello?” She answered instantly and out of breath. “…Hello?” Anya tried again after a few silent seconds. She heard the person on the other line release a breath. “…Chris?” 

There was another breath that nearly convinced her it was him. And then the numb voice she barely heard confirmed it. “…Anya…”

Her hand covered her mouth as her throat immediately choked up again…


	16. Goin' Back

Ch. 16: Goin’ Back

Laurel Canyon, September 1968

Two days after finally hearing back from Chris, Anya stood in the living room of the groovy Zappa residence with her purse and an overnight bag. She waited for her longtime friend to come back from the main bedroom while she thought about how she and Gail arranged for her to stay the next three nights. Anya wasn’t exactly happy or satisfied with her marriage, and the fact that she was even at her best friend’s house instead of home proved it. Anya had a long way to go with patching up things with Chris. The heiress was discovering the hardest thing she’s had to in life so far was not breakthrough her career; not find her own place after moving away from home; not create her own financial security—but regain her husband’s trust. It killed her inside how it was almost four days since she let herself commit adultery, and she still wasn’t with Chris again. She would kick herself if she could. The worst part was the more time went on, the less confident she was feeling with herself. Her stages of grief were already moving from sadness, to anger, to brief optimism, to now numbness. 

Anya rearranged her purse’s strap on her shoulder when she heard footsteps from stairs she couldn’t tell where upstairs or the lower level. When she turned her head to see who was coming from the hall—with accompanying baby noises—Anya was met not with Gail, but someone who had completely slipped her mind until right now.

“Oh, hi!” Pamela chirped with a happy grin on her face and one-year-old Moon in her arms. 

Anya stood silently and blankly.

The young girl was barely fazed by the lack of emotion and glanced down toward Anya’s bag. “Are you guys having a slumber party tonight? Far out!” She exclaimed with Moon reacting by clapping and giggling in approval. “Is Chris here too?” Pamela asked while her eyes thoroughly searched the room for the rockstar. 

“…No,” Anya responded drolly.

Pamela’s smile dropped slightly underwhelmed with the answer, right as the missus of the house finally appeared. “Oh, you can put Moon in her playpen and head out if you like, Pam,” she offered while walking up to Anya. “I think I should be home for the rest of the day.”

“Okey dokey,” Pamela said and carefully placed the baby down in the set next to the couch. The blonde then skipped over to the front door where her brown suede jacket and handmade floral-patterned clutch were. “Later!” She parted giddily before grabbing her items and leaping out the door.

Gail waved amusedly as the excitable groupie left the house. Anya on the other hand, was less enthused. “Gail, why did you become friends with these girls?” She groaned. “It’s so demoralizing at our age.” 

“Are you kidding? They’re so cheap,” the dark brunette claimed. “Pamela’s willing to babysit for backstage passes.” When she noticed Anya appeared sullen and as if she couldn’t care less about the hanger-on, Gail wrapped her arms around her close friend. “It’ll all work out,” she reassured soothingly with a hand running up her back. Anya raised her arms to return the hug and closed her eyes with a breath. “You’ve always been a pro at getting back on your feet,” Gail reminded as she pulled away with her hand squeezing Anya’s arm supportively. The Brit just smiled weakly without effort. She did at least appreciate that this time her former roommate was completely sober and legitimately interested in helping her out. The friends dropped Anya’s bags off in the guest room before returning to the living room and sitting on the couch opposite Moon. Gail crossed her legs comfortably and picked up a rainbow patterned scarf she was in the process of knitting, while Anya just plopped down on to the couch cushions with her arms crossed lazily. 

“Don’t worry, this happens in a lot of relationships,” Gail assured while patting her best friend’s knee. “Of course, it’s usually the guy who does it…” She considered out loud making Anya sit up straighter with a sigh. “But this just proves how lucky you were to find someone as dedicated as Chris,” the housewife clarified while nodding confidently. 

“Yes, I was,” Anya quietly agreed with a distant voice.

“Most musicians don’t want their girlfriends or wives around all the time like he does—or Frank, obviously,” she added to include her own husband and went back to her knitting.

The other wife didn’t respond this time and instead chose to just stare off while mulling over.

“You sure you’re going to need more than one night here?” Gail asked. “You two are usually pretty good at kissing and making up anyway.”

Anya dropped her head back again with her eyes closed for a second. “This is a bit different than our past arguments…I think we both need some legitimate space,” she informed, knowing in her mind she really needed more time for Chris to trust her again.

“Well, I can’t imagine it will take long for everything to work itself out,” Gail carried on optimistically. “This was all just a big mistake you’ll never make again.”

She nodded in agreement, though distractedly. 

“You guys fit so well together. I never really understood why you were so reluctant moving forward,” the young mother revealed casually.

The comment broke Anya from her ever-growing trance. “Well…It wasn’t exactly irrational. Neither of us were interested in relationships when we met. And it was the height of the band’s popularity at the time…I was just being logical.”

Gail shrugged. “I’ve never had that issue. I just let love take me over,” she stated with a light wave of her hand with one of her knitting needles. “A lot of guys grow out of fooling around anyway.”

Anya began pondering again while the American focused on her scarf. “It’s funny…I always thought it was healthy for us to have time apart…But now I don’t think I’ve ever felt more alone,” she finished somberly.

The former model offered a soft smile. “You won’t be for much longer.”

“Sometimes I think…I don’t know,” the English lady wondered out loud. “Maybe we did move too fast as a couple. I mean, all this happened in only two years…”

Gail wasn’t sure what her friend was suggesting. “…What are you saying? You actually are attracted to Carlos?”

Anya’s face grimaced. “No. God, no,” clarified while rubbing her temples from the thought of her last meeting with the roadie. “It’s just…I actually was doing really well in London. Everything was perfect…”

Gail’s brow rose in surprise. “Really? You regret meeting Chris? Even Brian?”

She shook her head slowly as she considered the questions and her own words. “No,” she confirmed while thinking back on her own life history the past few years. “I just can’t appreciate a good thing,” she accepted bleakly.

The darker brunette nodded understandingly. 

“I miss not feeling like shit,” she droned inertly. Gail tucked some of Anya’s hair behind her ear and cupped her cheek sympathetically before standing up to excuse herself when she heard the doorbell ring. Anya turned her head from watching Gail leave to around the room until her eyes stopped on baby Moon; who was going back and forth between playing with a raddle and a plush Piglet. Watching the toddler got her mind to wander about how her last proper conversation with Chris was on them theoretically raising children, and how quick she was to reject the idea. 

After a relatively enjoyable visit with Gail and her family, Anya drove back home close to sunset three nights later. Her depression was temporarily, successfully halted by her pal’s attempts to cheer her up and distract her with positive influences. Which in return also made Anya a little nostalgic for their roommate days. She was feeling rather mellow when she parked her car into the garage and entered the house. Until she glanced upstairs at the bottom of the staircase and found Chris just happen to be leaving the bedroom. Her stomach instantly dropped when he noticed her and a pained look formed on his face…

****

London, October 1968 

It figured Anya’s successful habit of running away from her problems would eventually lead her back home. She’s had plenty of options for places to crash or new work on the fly in the past. But now, four weeks following her semi-extended sleepover at Gail & Frank’s, Anya was walking up to the Butler estate five months unemployed and legally separated from her spouse. The surprised reaction from the guard at the property entrance when he recognized her inside the cab was what she predicted would be the response from her parents and the residence staff when she walked through the prestigious Tudor. The whole, large yard and garden were as spotless as she recalled, just as the mansion was when she stepped inside. She was greeted with another shocked face; this time of the head of the house staff, who was a woman in her 40s and wearing a typical maid uniform.

“Well!” She exclaimed in alarm when she opened the door.

“Hello, Ellen,” Anya she greeted with a soft smile as she strolled into her childhood home with two suitcases and a carryon bag for the plane ride. Home wasn’t her original choice for returning to England. Her first preference was to try and visit her old, close American friend Jenny Cowper and her hit producer husband Shel Talmy. It would have been nice to reconnect after not touching base in a few years. Especially since Anya helped Shel grow his London cred professionally with producing the Who’s first LP. But during one of her last meet-ups with Gail, she discovered the couple had recently bought a house back in their native Chicago and weren’t spending as much time in London currently. Then she called up Kit for old times’ sake, with the band manager/label exec happy to hear from his best secretary. While he couldn’t lend her a room because of his own ‘roommate,’ he did instantly offer her old position back if she needed it. This was of course a relief for Anya, as it would be the quickest way to having a job again. But to be tactful and not blind-side his present assistant, Kit asked her to check back in during the holidays. Which was understandable and an agreement she couldn’t complain about. It was a strange blend of déjà vu, nostalgia and surrealness to jump back into the Who’s circle and the UK music community after spending the past two years revolving her life around California. Rather than waste time finding somewhere else she could stay while resetting her life; Anya figured she might as well just face the music, per say, and head straight home. It would be impossible to hide from them once they figured out she was back in the country anyway.

“Did I miss a notice on your arrival?” Ellen asked concerned about her lack of knowledge the daughter of her clients was returning.

“No, you did not. I’m unannounced,” Anya revealed as she walked beyond the front door and into the main hall of the giant complex. Even though it was the same location she grew up in it, it still felt so much bigger and exquisite compared to the penthouses, apartments and Chris’ modest two-story Canyon house she had lived in as an adult thus far. Anya knew how to fix up her home fashionably, but most of her accessories and interiors were contemporary from shopping. Being surrounded by all the antique furniture and vintage art reminded her of how she’s never been naturally comfortable in the high class environment. 

“Ellen, please remind the new girl to mop the dining room floor and not sweep it again.”

The daughter of the chocolate dynasty heard her mother, Margaret’s prim voice. She turned to find her walking her way in a brown feminine suit with a skirt, traditional heels and an updo for her hair. In comparison to Anya’s own plaid patterned work suit she hadn’t taken out of her wardrobe since her short stint in New York and wore for her route overseas. 

“Anya!” She declared just as unexpected as Ellen. “What a surprise,” she continued genuinely.

“Mum,” Anya replied as the older woman stopped in front of her and pulled her into a hug with her right arm. Before Anya could raise her own arms, Margaret ended the mini embrace by placing her hand on her daughter’s shoulder. 

“What inspired this encounter?” She asked still surprised to see her practically estranged child in front of her.

“It’s a rather long story,” she answered simply and crossed her arms comfortably.

Margaret began playing with Anya’s hair out of maternal instinct. “Well, there are plenty of people around the estate to listen to your journey through America,” she considered. “Not least of all your father. How long can we expect you for?”

She shook her head with a half-efforted shrug. “I honestly couldn’t tell you.” It was nice her reunion with her mum was pleasant enough at the moment. She appreciated the matron’s cordialness. 

“Oh, dear. I know California is next to the ocean, but you might want to consider wearing make-up again,” Margaret suggested in a stark, concerned tone while tossing Anya’s hair over her shoulder.

Ah, there we go.

She wasn’t completely wrong with her assumption, as Anya hadn’t bothered to put anything more than powder on her face since her marriage fell apart last month. While the young lady would usually have a sarcastic crack for the superficial advice, she was still too weary to be interested in emoting and just offered a lazy smirk. Sensing her daughter’s defeated state, Margaret’s face softened right before noticing Anya’s bags on the ground. “Is this all you’ve brought?”

“No. I shipped everything else,” she replied and thought about how she spent a good chunk of the money she made from selling her motor vehicle on packing up everything she owned for moving. Margaret’s brow rose slightly, not expecting the visit to be long term. 

“Well, your room’s barely been touched since you’ve left. But you might want to check for insects or dust bunnies in the corners,” she suggested. “Don’t worry about the bed sheets though. Those have always been on the laundry schedule.”

Anya nodded and picked up her suitcases to head to her old bedroom. When she opened the door, she found her mother’s comments to be completely true. Not only was the room still made-up from no one occupying it, but her old posters, merchandise and accessories of her ‘fave raves’ were still on the walls and shelves. Elvis, Ricky Nelson, and Buddy Holly were a few of the stars surrounding the room. Even a Beatles press photo and the 45 of ‘Love Me Do’ were next to the record player on top of her wardrobe shelves. Seeing the items reminded her of how the fab four debuted at the same time she was introduced to Kit six years ago. She internally appreciated that her mum hadn’t gotten rid of all her personal fan collections to match the rest of the posh property once she was out living her own life.

Anya dropped her bags next to the bed and sat down with a big sigh. She glanced around the once familiar private room until her eyes eventually landed on her left hand. She zoned in on her now naked ring finger. It had been a week since she took off her wedding band and it still felt alien to her. She wondered if it was unusual she placed the ring in her jewelry box rather than getting rid of it. 

Stepping up from the bed after a few silent minutes, Anya moved to the window the right of the bed and gazed out to see gardeners maintaining the grass, plants and flowers. She didn’t know what the future now held for her. She thought she did in 1965 when she was living it up as an independent, sexually liberated, young woman. She thought so again in 1967 when she became a wife on top of a career woman. She had no idea that in seven years she would meet her second, much longer lasting husband, Rupert, while living in Italy and curating the Palazzo Dario on the Grand Canal owned by Kit. She would be disappointed to later discover Chris’ assumptions on Kit’s finances would be correct and the reason he was let go from managing the Who. It will be bittersweet in 1981, when she and Rupert get married the same year Kit would die after years of excessive drug abuse. Over the years Anya will occasionally hear and read about the progression of Chris’ music and life. She will be surprised to learn that not long after she moved back to England, he artistically reunited with not only Gram, but also Michael in a country-rock supergroup called the Flying Burrito Brothers. Their songs are good, but it wouldn’t be until Gram’s tragic, premature death in 1973 when the world would begin paying attention to their records. She will be happy for Chris when he finally finds post-Byrds success with the traditional country band Desert Rose Band. And she’s glad he too has his own successful second marriage where he becomes a father and a converted Christian.

Anya may not be able to control her future, but she can at least learn to accept the past and grow from her mistakes. It takes patience and wisdom, but she’ll get there eventually. And she’s happy for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's all for Anya currently, heh. If you liked this this fanfic adventure, I've got a few Chris/Anya one-shots already planned in the future and even a couple of Pete/Anya ficlets. 📝


End file.
